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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354001">desiderata</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen'>electrumqueen</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>things wanted or needed [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Cobra Kai (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cycles of abuse, Developing Relationship, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, Johnny Lawrence's A+ Parenting, M/M, Multi, Past Relationship(s), Polyamory, not s3 compliant</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:27:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>171,912</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29354001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/electrumqueen/pseuds/electrumqueen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Robby doesn't feel like he's drowning, now. It doesn't feel like he loves anyone so much his heart is going to leave his body. It feels like: he's safe, and he's happy, and he doesn't have those dreams where he walks into the ocean and doesn't come out.</p><p>And then he walks in on his dad fucking Mr LaRusso, and it all goes to shit.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence, Miguel Diaz &amp; Johnny Lawrence, Miguel Diaz/Robby Keene, Miguel Diaz/Robby Keene/Tory Nichols, Robby Keene &amp; Daniel LaRusso, Robby Keene &amp; Johnny Lawrence, Robby Keene &amp; Samantha LaRusso, Robby Keene/Original Male Character(s), Robby Keene/Tory Nichols, Samantha LaRusso/Demetri (Cobra Kai)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>things wanted or needed [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2100819</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/stumblebee/gifts">stumblebee</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>these tags are a little heavy but I didn't want anyone to get blindsided. I'll throw in specific content notes per chapter but the main thing is the cyclical abuse, which is canon-typical except that some of it is sexual in nature here. nothing is graphic and none of it occurs within the primary relationships, but feel free to reach out if you'd like particular warnings or tags or you'd like specific info before you step in. </p><p>okay! that out of the way i had hoped to get this done before s3 dropped but does the robby keene in my head shut the fuck up? he does not. he has things to say, baby. further housekeeping: this fic will not make sense without its prequel, and while i tagged for lawrence/larusso because it's a key relationship to the plot their emotional entanglements are not really primary to the narrative. </p><p>two big original characters: luke, who i invite u to picture as played by logan paul w all the attendant distaste that mental image invokes, and beth, played by marlo kelly (justice for dare me!). </p><p>extremely enormous thank u to e for whom throuple robby exists! would not have this extreme balm of a universe without u and that would bum me out so damn much. thank u also to l for the love and support!!!!!!!! robby's chinchilla loves u!!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Robby was fifteen years old he was dating this guy, Luke. Luke was nineteen and he had a Range Rover and he was great in bed and he made Robby feel like he couldn't live without him, like he'd die if Luke stopped being near him. Turns out if you think you'll die if someone leaves you you let them do a lot of shit to you. </p><p>He wasn't speaking to his dad at the time, which his dad deserved, because he was worse than useless as far as Robby was concerned. He was living with his mom, technically, but practically he was mostly living with Luke. Mostly that was good, because Luke was a nice guy when you first met him and if you didn't push him too far, and mostly Robby was good at not pushing any buttons he didn't want to push. </p><p>Back then Robby was not really doing school. It wasn't really a thing. He did have a sick ollie going, though. His arm sometimes hurt when it rained, because the break off the homemade half-pipe hadn't healed a hundred percent, but otherwise things were fine. He was making the best of it.</p><p>It was okay. He'd never been loved like that before. When it's new, you can live on it. You think there's nothing else in the world that matters.</p><p>Robby is seventeen now. He's dating Miguel Diaz, who is his dad's favourite student, and Tory Nichols, who is nobody's favourite student. It's weird to have a boyfriend and a girlfriend, but it's somehow less weird than it was before he had them, when it was just him on his own, throwing shit at the wall and trying to make a home out of it. </p><p>None of them have had sex yet, which is kind of a weird thing to happen, since they're all seventeen, but it doesn't feel bad. It feels kind of nice, like they're good, just feeling out what they want and how it's going to work. </p><p>Things are good. That's what he's saying. He lives with his dad, but his mom is in rehab and he sees her at least one night a week and she's doing great. He's taking karate with his best friend and her dad, and the LaRussos are like a second family to him, which he did not see coming because when he was fifteen he didn't have one family, let alone two. </p><p>He doesn't feel like he's drowning, now. It doesn't feel like he loves anyone so much his heart is going to leave his body. It feels like: he's safe, and he's happy, and he doesn't have those dreams where he walks into the ocean and doesn't come out.</p><p>And then he walks in on his dad fucking Mr LaRusso, and it all goes to shit. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Back up. It's a Monday, which means it's not a Miyagi-do day; it's technically a day when Robby is supposed to do his homework for once instead of practicing one-handed double kicks. Sometimes he misses being a high school dropout. Sure, Mrs LaRusso did help him out big time getting him into West Valley High, and it's cool to be in class with Sam and to see Miguel and Tory in between classes and drive Miguel to school, and he likes a lot of it, but there's so much more of it he does not like at all. </p><p>For example: sitting in the library with Sam, trying to figure out what the hell an organelle is. She's good at Chem because she applies herself and shit like that, and Robby is absolutely trying to have a new leaf turned over that means he doesn't end up a dead end dealing coke to private school kids, but god. Organic chemistry makes him want to just walk out. </p><p>Miguel and Tory are at Cobra Kai. Robby doesn't want to be at Cobra Kai. He and his dad are doing better now - he likes living with his dad, which is not something he'd have ever bet money he'd say - but he doesn't want to be in a position to punch the guy in the face. He's like, zen and shit, calm and balanced and together, but there are some things you just shouldn't risk. </p><p>Tory keeps sending him snaps of Miguel falling over. They're doing balancing shit or something, which is probably Mr LaRusso's influence on Robby's dad, but Robby's dad wouldn't know patience if it bit him in the dick so it just means they're all falling over while getting yelled at. It's fun to watch, though. Miguel does this thing, when he's sucking at something, where he just bites his lip and furrows his brow and doubles down, and it's sweet. </p><p>They're supposed to have dinner at Miguel's tonight. Miguel's mom is a little bit confused about what's going on with them, but his grandma totally gets it and thinks it's hilarious, and also won't let anyone sleep over in his room. Robby thinks that's kind of unfair, considering that he and Tory have a kind of mutual non-aggression pact except that it's for deflowering Miguel - or not deflowering, as the case may be - and when Miguel sleeps over at Robby and his dad's his dad doesn't care at all. </p><p>That's more a Robby's dad thing than anything else, though.</p><p>Robby's dad is, really, doing his best. He's doing better than he's ever done before. And Robby's tough; Robby's used to being on his own. Robby's dad would have to be like, actively dangerous to fuck Robby up now. </p><p>Tory's mom was supposed to come over, but today at lunch Tory kissed Robby's cheek and said, <em> sorry she picked up a shift </em> and what was he going to say, <em> don't do it? </em> He's pretty sure Miguel bought it, because Miguel is a good person and Miguel trusts people, and also because Tory is a good fucking liar. </p><p>But it takes one to know one, and when Tory lies she sweeps her eyes to the right, just for a second, and she did it when she said that.</p><p>So that's happening. </p><p>It's probably not that big of a deal. It's early days, and parents are weird anyway - it's not like Robby's breaking down his mom's door to get her to meet his boyfriend and his girlfriend - but Tory's been kind of weird about it. Miguel's been over at her mom's, and so has Robby, but only when they're drunk and they almost never see Tory's mom in the mornings. </p><p>But, again. Parents are weird.</p><p>For example, Robby has a dad and then he has a karate dad, basically, and they do kind of hate each other but lately it's been a relatively amicable hatred, which has been nice. They used to snarl at each other over Robby's training, but now they're just sniping about who's gonna clean up at the All Valley. Yeah, it's kind of embarrassing that they're both in their fifties and still talking about this karate tournament for teenagers, but it is technically also both of their jobs. </p><p>Anyway, Sam's laptop dies at the library and her charger is at home, and she's late for Model UN and she does these huge big eyes at Robby, and he like, loves her or whatever even though they aren't <em> in love</em>, she's like, important to him, so he says, <em> fine </em> and <em> you owe me </em> and she kisses his cheek and says, <em> you can have my first born child, how's that? </em> </p><p>Robby is technically supposed to be going home to have dinner with Miguel's mom and Miguel's grandma and Miguel and Tory, and Miguel is sending him the long-ass novels that Miguel considers a normal text about, like, will Robby help him do a handstand? Of course Robby will help him do a handstand. He's gonna suck at it, though. He's a noodle. </p><p>Robby dumped Sam and it was the first time Sam had ever been dumped. </p><p>So Robby gets in his car and drives a half an hour out of his way. It's fine. </p><p>It's Mrs LaRusso's day to work late at LaRusso Auto - most of them are Mrs LaRusso's day to work late at LaRusso Auto, lately, because of how Mr LaRusso is busy with Miyagi-do, and that's not really Robby's business but it doesn't seem like it's a particularly sustainable situation, but what does he know? He only works there on Thursdays and Saturdays. </p><p>Robby has a house key, because he used to live there and because he sometimes stays in the guest house and because they never took the key back and he never offered it. Even though he's the one who said <em> I think I should give my dad a chance</em>, this is the first place he ever felt like he really, whole-heartedly, belonged. </p><p>Anthony's home, playing a first person shooter instead of doing any homework. He waves when Robby comes in, but distractedly, and then he says, "Can you get me a bagel?" </p><p>Robby does not get him a bagel. You cannot fall into the trap of getting Anthony anything, because once you do you're stuck and he will not let you go. Robby was a pretty difficult kid so he's not gonna throw stones, but Anthony really is a kid. </p><p>He just waves at Anthony and goes up to Sam's bedroom to get her charger, which is right on her desk where she said it was - <em> this it? </em> he texts, and she replies <em> yes thank u!!!!!!!!!!!! </em>with like a million heart emojis - and then he remembers that he wanted to get that book on World War II that Mr LaRusso's been on his case to read, and he fell asleep reading it the last time he slept over here, so he might as well - </p><p>Nobody ever really uses the guest house anymore. Mr LaRusso has his dojo at Miyagi-do and it's kind of like, Robby's space, still, which is crazy. It's like he went from having the couch at his mom's place to three places where people want him. God, that's fucked.</p><p>He's thinking about that when he pushes the door open, surprised to find that it's locked but sometimes he forgets, so - </p><p>"Holy shit." That's Robby's voice. </p><p>"Robby," says Robby's dad, from Robby's bed, with Mr LaRusso, "this isn't what it looks like."</p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs, his wired stressed out little laugh. He looks a little manic. A lot manic. "Really?" he says. "I think it's pretty much exactly what it looks like."</p><p>Robby's dad is wearing a Metallica t shirt and no pants. Mr LaRusso's slacks are down around his ankles. </p><p>"Oh my god," Robby says. </p><p>Both Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso are on the bed, but they are now sitting next to each other so at least there's that. At least Mr LaRusso's pulled the blanket - <em> Robby's blanket </em> - over both of their laps.</p><p>Mr LaRusso is pulling his pants up and Robby's dad is fishing around in the sheets for his boxers. </p><p>There is so much that Robby has never in his life wanted to see and it is all happening at once. </p><p>"Shouldn't you be in the library?" Robby's dad asks, retrieving his jeans from the floor. </p><p>"Shouldn't you be at your job?" Robby's counter is automatic. "Fuck. Don't you hate each other?" </p><p>"Yes," Mr LaRusso says. He has to stand up to figure his belt out, but his fly is down. </p><p>"Oh my god," Robby says, again. </p><p>Robby's dad says, "Come on. You've never seen a dick before?" </p><p>"I will kill you," Mr LaRusso tells him, grimly. He takes a step forward. "Robby?" His voice is soft and careful, the way he sometimes gets, with Robby. Usually when he says Robby's name like that it's because Robby's been kicked in the shoulder or fallen flat into the Miyagi-do bridge. Not this. </p><p>"I-" Robby says. He shuts his mouth. There's nothing else to say. That's a lie, there's a lot to say. There's so much to say. "Is this a thing?" </p><p>"Depends what you consider a thing," Robby's dad says, because he's a son of a bitch who doesn't know how to deal with an actual situation and that's why they didn't have a relationship until Robby was seventeen years old. </p><p>"Johnny," Mr LaRusso says. Firm, calm. </p><p>Robby's dad settles down. Robby thinks: <em> how the fuck did I miss this? </em> Robby's dad only settles down for Miguel and karate. </p><p>"Robby," Mr LaRusso says, again. He takes another step forward.</p><p>Robby's body isn't designed to pull away from Mr LaRusso. He's spent the better part of a year trusting his entire body to Miyagi-do; he sleeps and dreams in kata. He says, "Mr LaRusso?" Maybe he sounds like a kid. That wasn't what he wanted to do. </p><p>"It's okay, Robby," Mr LaRusso says, looking tired and old. Usually he doesn't look old. Usually Robby forgets Mr LaRusso's the same age as his dad, but now Robby can see it. "Don't freak out."</p><p>"I'm not freaking out," Robby says.</p><p>"Hey, kid-" That's Robby's dad, rubbing his hand over his face, getting to his feet. "Breathe."</p><p>"I know how to breathe," Robby snaps. It's easy to snap at his dad, because he's been doing that his whole life. Thinking about Mr LaRusso, that's harder. "What the fuck were you thinking?"</p><p>Robby's dad flinches. Doesn't say anything.</p><p>Mr LaRusso steps forward, one hand on Robby's dad's chest. "John," he says, quietly.</p><p>It's the way he says it. The sureness, the intimacy. Nobody calls Robby's dad <em> John </em> . Even Robby's mom calls him Johnny - even when Robby was a little kid, and his dad sometimes lived in their house for like, a month at a time, Mom always called him <em> Johnny </em> or <em> you fucking asshole.  </em></p><p>"This isn't the first time," Robby says. "Is it?" </p><p>Robby's dad flinches again. He's not a fucking flincher. You could hit him right in the face, there could be blood dripping down from his fucking broken nose and he'd grin at you, his stupid sloping dirtbag smile, say, <em> that all you got? </em> But he's flinching now. "It's not," he says. "Kid, can you just-"</p><p>"Can I just <em> what </em> ," Robby says. "He's <em> married </em> and you - you're fucking straight! You date the worst women in the world!"</p><p>"Hey, does that mean I can talk about Shannon?" There's no spark in it. It's just Robby's dad standing barefoot in Mr LaRusso's guest house, his hair all fucked up like someone's had their hands in it, staring at Robby like maybe Robby's about to step forward and break his nose. </p><p>"No," Robby says. "What the hell, man?"</p><p>He was getting pretty good at calling him <em> Dad </em>. Not like, every day or anything. But sometimes. It didn't feel as weird in his mouth. </p><p>But this is exactly the kind of thing Robby's fucking dad would do. Sure, fucking a man is new, but blowing up his life - and Robby's - is fucking standard. He used to blow in once or twice a year like clockwork, bullshitting about making amends for a week and then getting thrown in jail or getting in a barfight or just disappearing instead of picking Robby up from little league, so Robby had to sit on the curb for an hour until the coach took him home. </p><p><em> This is what happens when you trust your fucking dad, </em> Robby's mom says, in his head. She smoothes his hair away from his forehead; he's six and he's sunburnt because his dad got drunk instead of coming to get him from the park.</p><p>"When I was eleven you picked me up from soccer one time," Robby says, "and it was because you wanted to fuck one of the moms. Which you did."</p><p>Mr LaRusso says, "Robby-"</p><p>"What are you doing, Mr LaRusso?" He's still holding Sam's fucking charger. Maybe he's holding it too tight. He can block a hit from any direction but this makes him feel like he's drowning.</p><p>"Not everything's about you, Robby." Robby's <em> fucking </em>dad rakes his fingers through his hair. It's not going anywhere, that shit's a mess and it's gonna stay like that. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Say it if you're gonna," he says. "Don't spare my feelings." </p><p>Mr LaRusso has the audacity to look concerned. That's not fair; it's not audacity. Mr LaRusso has been good to Robby, after everything, despite everything. He cares about Robby, even if sometimes he makes mistakes, which is fine, because Robby's not <em> actually </em> his kid, just - "Hey," he says, gently. "Balance, Robby, remember the wheel."</p><p>It helps. It's not Mr LaRusso standing here who helps him but all the Mr LaRussos before: all the times Robby's been up in the air, in turmoil, and been able to breathe in, and breathe out, and be alone in the wilderness. </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "Okay. How long? Does Mrs LaRusso know? What -" his voice cracks. Fuck. "Is this a thing?" </p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad says. Now <em> his </em> voice breaks, but Robby is <em> not </em> going to look at him, because if he looks at him all that calm is going to fall right out of his eyeballs. "I- We - didn't want you to find out like this."</p><p><em> We</em>. </p><p>"It's not a mistake," Mr LaRusso says, quietly. "We're feeling it out."</p><p>"Are you?" Robby ducks his head. He's used to snapping at his dad and he's not used to snapping at Mr LaRusso, but Mr LaRusso is <em> married</em>. Mrs LaRusso is so fucking nice.  She is so cool and she's so funny and she lets them do all kinds of stupid shit, and she makes this really good spinach and potato thing, and she's so good at Robby's chem homework when it doesn't make any sense, and -</p><p><em> Sam. </em> Fuck.</p><p><em> Fuck</em>.</p><p>Breathe in, breathe out. It's you and the trees. You're not going anywhere.</p><p>"Mrs LaRusso?" </p><p>The air is still. It's like it's forgotten how to move. Robby feels like he's outside of his body. He's the still air, floating over everything. </p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs. He looks <em> so </em>sad, hollow in the eyes, kind of like every time Robby tells a story about when he was nine. "I know, Robby. It's not fair to her.We didn't plan it. It just happened." </p><p>"You're always saying you wish we could get along," Robby's dad offers. Weak, like always. </p><p>"How long?" Robby ignores his dad. He's had practice. </p><p>"Not very long," Mr LaRusso says. He tilts his head and looks at Robby. "Hey. None of this is - it's not your fault, okay? None of this is on you. It's not even on your dad. It's me. I'm the one who's fucking up. Okay?"</p><p>Robby's chest feels tight and his mouth is dry. Maybe he's dizzy? He swallows. "Mr LaRusso-"</p><p>"I'm going to tell her," Mr LaRusso says. "But I need to do it in the right way. Otherwise it'll all be worse than it has to be. Do you understand?"</p><p>Robby's not stupid. He knows when he's being played, because, well: he's textbook for getting played. If you're nice to Robby for fifteen minutes he'll follow you into a war, that's what his ex used to say about him. </p><p>He knows Mr LaRusso is saying, <em> if you say something you're going to hurt Sam, </em> and he knows Mr LaRusso knows he would rather die than hurt Sam and Mrs LaRusso and even Anthony. He <em> knows.  </em></p><p>But that doesn't make it not true. </p><p>"I won't say anything," Robby says. He rubs his hand over his mouth. "Is this really for real?" </p><p>"Hey." It's Robby's dad, brushing past Mr LaRusso to rest one hand on Robby's shoulder, gently at first, like Robby's going to push him off or break the hold and throw him, but Robby feels - fucking tired, like a vampire came and sucked him dry - so he just lets him do it. "I never thought it would be like this, Robby. I never thought-" and his eyes are bright, god, Robby doesn't think he's ever seen his dad look <em> soft </em> like this, "- it feels like I spent thirty years waiting for this, without knowing what it was. Who."</p><p>Robby breathes in. Shaky, staggered. "Dad?" </p><p>"C'mere," Robby's dad says, pulling him in against his chest. "It's okay, Robby. It's all okay."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby really thinks he's going to make it to dinner, until he looks at the road signs and realizes he's halfway to Malibu. Under any other circumstance he'd text Sam and they'd do katas out there, but he has her charger in his car and he just saw her dad's dick, so he's not gonna do that. </p><p>Instead he texts Sam <em> sorry got a flat, stuck out here! </em>and the same to Miguel but not to Tory because she'll just read over Miguel's shoulder anyway. It sucks, because Miguel's mom is kind of iffy on Robby since she's kind of iffy on Robby's dad, and Miguel's grandma absolutely thinks Robby and Miguel and Tory are all fucking right in front of God, so Robby needs all the brownie points he can get. </p><p>Robby's dad said he'd be home soon. He said they could talk about it. That's got to be Mr LaRusso's influence because Robby's dad would rather die than talk about anything. </p><p>Robby cannot think about anything he'd rather talk about less than this. They did an astronomy unit where they looked at chemical reactions in stars but also at the heat death of the universe, the way that inevitably everything will collapse. Unless you're like a crazy fundie religious freak who believes the world got made in seven days or whatever, but that's not something Robby cares about. Maybe Mr LaRusso does, Italians are really Catholic, right? </p><p>Robby's been punched right in the face more times than he can count. It's happened plenty of times when the person who punched him is someone he should have been able to trust. This should feel just like that. </p><p>It does, a little. Mostly. </p><p>It feels like someone's just said, <em> here is how the world ends </em> and Robby is supposed to just. Sit tight and watch it happen. </p><p>How is he going to go back to Miyagi-do? How is he going to look Sam in the face? </p><p>He's supposed to fucking <em> find balance </em>. Where's that? </p><p>There is no way this ends well. Robby's known his dad his entire life. He knows how this shit goes.</p><p>It's the middle of January, which means windy and chilly, the kind of grey so the sea and the sky blur into one grey line out at the horizon. Robby drives towards it as long as he can. </p><p>Finally Robby parks at the far end of the lot and takes his time walking down to the sand. He thinks about leaving his phone in the car, but his dad still really hates texting so it's probably fine. He can always just throw it into the ocean if he really loses it. He wouldn't do that, because phones are expensive, but it's soothing to think about.</p><p>The beach isn't busy. It's not empty - Robby's never seen an empty beach, not even in the dead of winter, unless you go all the way up or down the coast - but it's not packed, either, so Robby can sit quietly in the dunes in his jeans and his t shirt and stare out at the water. </p><p>The thing is, there isn't anyone to <em> tell</em>. Everyone he knows is so fucking caught up, in his dad or in Mr LaRusso - lucky you, Robby, you're the only one stuck with both of them - and he <em> said </em> he'd wait, because Mr LaRusso was right that there wasn't anything Robby could say to make it better, but. God. </p><p>He could do a kata but he can’t, really, because if he did one now he’d just think about Mr LaRusso teaching him, about the way Mr LaRusso taught him to be a person and now the way Robby’s dad has crashed into Mr LaRusso’s life like he crashes into everything. He wouldn’t mind finding a half-pipe but he’s god damn rusty and he does not need an ER trip to wrap up this great fucking evening. So he just sits, staring at the sea.</p><p>After a little while, or maybe a long while - long enough for Robby's ass to get sandy and damp - Robby's phone buzzes. The text is from an unknown number. It's a screenshot from a Nyjah Huston trick and it says <em> you got this one yet?  </em></p><p>Robby doesn't need to text back. But he's having a fucking shitty day and he's alone on the beach so there isn't anyone to see him tap out: <em> you got a new number just to text me?  </em></p><p>The reply is immediate. <em> So you're saying it worked?  </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby should have just left Sam's charger at her house, but he didn't, so he has to stop by on his way home. He texts her that it's in the mailbox. He knows she'll think it's weird and corner him tomorrow, but that's tomorrow's problem. </p><p>When he goes home his dad's going to be there. Fuck. </p><p>Robby's dad is the one who hides from shitty situations. Robby's supposed to be the one who toughs them out. </p><p>Robby's dad is supposed to be <em> straight</em>. </p><p>When Robby first started fucking around with his ex, he wasn't speaking to his dad. It wasn't his idea, if he's honest, but his dad didn't call for his birthdays or try to show up for his one weekend a month so he wasn't going to admit anything and nobody was pressing him on it, anyway.</p><p>It's not like Robby was hooking up with Luke and thinking about his dad at the same time. That would be weird. </p><p>But Robby's dad would have flipped, if he saw Robby with a guy. (He flipped three years later, when Robby told him the LaRussos kicked him out for having had a boyfriend. That was a stretch but it wasn't an unconscionable one.)</p><p>It was just a nice thing to know. That Robby's dad would have hated that thing about Robby, like he hated all the other things, and that Robby had chosen to do it, the way he hadn't chosen to be born or cry all the time or remind his dad of his failures as a human being every time he looked at Robby. </p><p>It's just. Robby's never felt weird about being with Luke. He's felt weird about a lot of things, about Luke himself, because, in retrospect, he did kind of treat Robby like shit; about how people looked at him, because he was with Luke; about how Sam might react, if she thought he was just pretending something to be with her. He was never pretending about that, with Sam. It was complicated for lots of reasons but not because of <em>that</em>. </p><p>But Robby never felt weird about liking boys. It was just what it was, and it was nice to think that if he wanted he could throw it in his dad's stupid shitty face. </p><p>And now Robby's dad is - not straight. Robby used to go to parties with Luke. He knows what middle aged men with closet issues look like. He <em> knows</em>. </p><p>They never looked like his dad. </p><p>But this was his dad. The whole fucking time. </p><p> </p><p>Technically Robby and his dad only have one space in the parking lot, so Robby has to park on-street around the corner. He takes his time walking back. </p><p>There's a light on in the window. Robby stoops, looking for a pebble the right size; finds one that's perfect. Not too big, not too small.</p><p>Bulls-eye, baby. </p><p>Robby sits down on the curb to wait. His pockets are empty but he doesn't want to look at his phone so he doesn't. </p><p>He doesn't have to wait long. Miguel's body is a familiar shape coming out of the complex entry, coming towards Robby. He's gangly, despite all the training, still all limb, but Robby knows enough now not to mistake that for weakness. </p><p>He doesn't get up but he does turn so Miguel can see his face. </p><p>"You couldn't just text?" Miguel asks, once he's close enough. But he's shrugging out of his hoodie and putting it around Robby's shoulders, and Robby is letting him.</p><p>It's hard because Miguel is just that nice. He isn't fucking with Robby; he isn't banking goodwill to trade in later. He's just giving Robby his hoodie, because Robby is wearing a t shirt and jeans and it's dark out, now. </p><p>The hoodie smells like Old Spice and Miguel. It's soft enough to burrow into, for Robby to hide his hands in the ends of the sleeves. </p><p>"I didn't know I was cold."</p><p>"You never do." Miguel sits down beside him and kisses his temple. Maybe it should feel condescending or something but it doesn't.</p><p>Robby sighs. It's stupid but he just feels better, like there's something tight around his chest that eases when Miguel is close. "Hi. Sorry I missed dinner."</p><p>"It's okay, we saved you a plate." His shoulder crowds against Robby's.</p><p>Robby wants to rest his head on Miguel's shoulder but he doesn't, just lets his weight sway a little into Miguel's side. "We?"</p><p>"Okay, me." Miguel laughs softly. "Tory did not help."</p><p>"Figures," Robby says. He and Tory are good but it's not quite the same as they are individually with Miguel. It's not that they don't like each other. It's that it's something else. He doesn't need Tory to save him a plate; he's already dating Miguel. "I don't want to talk about it."</p><p>"Okay. You want me to yell at your dad?"</p><p>Robby wants to kiss him, so he does. </p><p>Miguel makes a startled sound against his mouth, but then his hands are coming up to tangle in Robby's hair and he is kissing Robby back. </p><p>The first time Robby kissed Miguel it was kind of, just a little, fucked up. He was freaking out and suddenly alone, but he hadn't been alone for a while so he was out of practice. And Miguel was there, and he was so, so scared that he'd fuck it up and Miguel would leave.</p><p>If it had been someone else it would have gotten fucked up. Robby knows this from experience. </p><p>But it wasn't someone else, it was Miguel. Miguel just put his hand over Robby's and gave him clean clothes to wear and then stayed up with him, all night, so he could fall asleep somewhere it didn't feel like the roof was going to fall down. </p><p>Now they are kissing on the side of the road. Robby's hand has tucked itself into Miguel's side, just under his t shirt where his skin runs hot, and Miguel's hands curl around Robby's cheek and along the back of his neck. </p><p>Miguel is so easy to kiss. He doesn't flinch or hold back and he doesn't dig his hands into Robby to hold him still. He just kisses Robby back.</p><p>"Hey," Miguel says, softly, pressing his forehead against Robby's. His mouth is red. "Hey."</p><p>"I'm okay," Robby says. "I just -"</p><p>That's the thing about Miguel, that isn't true about Sam or Luke or anybody else Robby's ever been with. If Robby says he's okay Miguel will wait until he says he isn't. That matters.</p><p>Technically it's Miguel's business, because Robby's dad is Miguel's business. Robby's dad is more Miguel's business than he is Robby's, which used to sting but now is starting to balance out.</p><p>He can't tell Miguel, anyway. Miguel thinks Robby's dad is a fundamentally good person who managed to fuck up with Robby but has changed and is doing his best to fix things. He doesn't need to know that Robby's dad is the same person he's been all along.</p><p>Miguel kisses his forehead. "You want me to sleep over?" </p><p>"Your mom," Robby says. Miguel's mom and grandma are so Catholic, they make Miguel leave his bedroom door open when Robby and Tory are over.</p><p>But god, the idea of it does help. It's not like he <em> needs </em> Miguel, it's just that it's easy to fall asleep when he's there. </p><p>"I can sneak out early," Miguel says. "Nobody will notice."</p><p>"Your grandma will definitely notice," Robby says. He doesn't mean in it a complaining way. It's good that Miguel has people who love him and care about him; Miguel deserves them. He's a good person and they're good, too. </p><p>Miguel is the kind of person who is good and makes you want to be good around him. Robby knows it and Tory does too, and Robby's dad must feel it, in his bones, because he is better when Miguel is around, for Miguel, and that's something Robby never managed.</p><p>Miguel must see him thinking because he flicks the tip of Robby's nose, gently. "I can handle Yaya."</p><p>The streetlight out front used to be broken but it's fixed, now. Miguel's face is brightly lit, glowing. Robby likes looking at him, and he likes the way Miguel looks at him. He's fucking hot and Robby wants -</p><p>Robby and Tory talked about it, one day when Miguel was stuck doing after school extra algebra and neither of them had karate. They sat in her car and smoked a joint Robby'd been keeping in his glove box and he said, "You know he's never done it," feeling like a ten year old talking under the bleachers, and she sighed and said, "Yeah."</p><p>They get each other, Tory and Robby. It's all the same story, you know? You're dirt poor and your mom's never home and someone pays attention to you and you think that means they love you, and you're wrong.</p><p>It's not a sob story. It's barely a story. It's just what happened. </p><p>Miguel's not like them, though, and that's a good thing, a precious and important thing that maybe they're both a little fucking weird about, but he doesn't seem to mind.</p><p>Tory said, "I just want it to be good for him, you know?"</p><p>And Robby did know, because he wanted it, too. Like if they could make it right for Miguel maybe they could make up for all the ways it had sucked for both of them. Maybe that was selfish, but Robby thought more likely, it just was. </p><p>So he can't go inside with Miguel, not when he's feeling like this. Like he wants to claw out his skin. When he was with Luke that was easy, but nothing else about being with Luke was easy, so.</p><p>"How was training?" he asks, instead. </p><p>Miguel looks at him, knowing and fond. "Not too bad," he says. "Mostly conditioning. You wanna go?"</p><p>"Just a couple rounds," Robby says. "If you're okay."</p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. "Don't hit my face, though."</p><p>"You know I think you're always pretty," Robby teases. </p><p>The thing about fighting Miguel is that it's fucking good. Miguel doesn't fight like he talks, like the way he gets when he's holding Tory's hair back while she pukes or nagging Robby to check his dad's stupid computer and take out all the fucking viruses. Miguel fights like the wildest version of himself. </p><p>When Robby fights he finds that inner balance, the one Mr LaRusso dragged out of him kicking and screaming. Fighting is like meditating, it's like, god, like seeing into the space between the atoms, like seeing the heart of the universe and belonging there. Even when he loses he steps off the mat and he bows and it's like, yeah. That's who you are. </p><p>For Miguel, it is not like that.</p><p>Robby's dad taught Miguel to fight. Robby's dad fights like the world's kicked him in the balls and he's just trying to get one back, with his teeth if that's what it takes. He's not <em> dirty </em> but he's not not dirty. It's what you'd call on the edge. A grey area.</p><p>Miguel's not that kid Hawk, who everyone keeps telling Robby is fine and not that bad - Robby remains unconvinced - but he's different on the mat. The first time they fought he went right for Robby's dislocated shoulder and Robby hasn't forgotten it, because he doesn't need to. That's who Miguel is, as much as the Miguel who wraps himself around Robby when he's having a nightmare, and it's important that Robby knows that. That Miguel can take care of himself, even if Robby fucks him around.</p><p>Maybe that's what he needs to know right now. Maybe he's freaking out, because the world is falling apart, because Robby's <em> fucking </em>dad can't just let a good thing lie. </p><p>Maybe he needs that kick to the chest - one to Diaz - and to follow it with his own quick punch - one all - both of them grinning, stupid like kids. Miguel's baring his teeth with the effort and Robby feels like he's floating on the skin of the world, like his own breath is as much a function of the earth as the descent of a leaf from a tree. </p><p>"Fuck," Miguel says, laughing, sloppy with it. Dives forward but that leaves him open. </p><p>Robby takes him out with a sweep to the leg, catches Miguel's head with the flat of his hand as they go down.  </p><p>"Fuck," Miguel says, but lightly, still smiling. He lets his head just rest there, in Robby's hand. </p><p>"Did you let me?" Robby asks.</p><p>"Who do you think I am?" Breathless, bright-eyed.</p><p>"Okay," Robby says, and leans down to kiss him. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel lets Robby kiss him against his front door, whispering <em> shh </em> into each other's mouths. They're tired out, though, and it's late and dark, so when Miguel pushes Robby off gently Robby steps back with good grace. </p><p>"Stay gold," Miguel says. Robby's dad has fucked him up forever, he thinks the 80s are the best decade. </p><p>The cool from the fight's still in Robby's blood. He could do anything. "Good night," he says. </p><p>He opens the door. </p><p>Robby's dad is on the couch, drinking orange juice. He's been trying not to drink as much shitty beer but he still needs something to do with his mouth so they go through more OJ than a fancy brunch place. "What the fuck time is this?"</p><p>Robby drops his backpack at the door. Okay, this is how it's going. "I just want to shower and go to bed," he says. "Can we not do this?" </p><p>"I called you," Robby's dad says, grimly. He does look shitty, red eyed and exhausted, but not surrounded by empties so does it really count? "So many fucking times. I don't care how mad you are at me, you need to tell me you're not dead." </p><p>"Now you're my dad, is that it?" It's an old well, but that's because it's a classic. </p><p>"Yes!" Robby's dad practically shouts, rising to his feet. "I'm your dad. I care if you live or die. And you know that, or you wouldn't have done this specifically to piss me off."</p><p>"I was texting Miguel," Robby says. He sounds sulky, like a kid, which is not fucking fair, since he is the one in the right. "He'd have told you I was fine."</p><p>Robby's dad closes his eyes. "Robby." When he does that, he looks like a real dad. Like the kind of dad who stays up late wondering where his kid is. Like Mr LaRusso. </p><p>"I'm tired," Robby says. </p><p>"There's food in the fridge. Diaz brought it over." Robby's dad doesn't move. </p><p>"Cool," Robby says. "Now we both have boyfriends. Wanna go to the spa about it?" </p><p>"So you're not okay."</p><p>"Of course I'm not okay," Robby says. "You're fucking ruining my life. Again."</p><p>Miguel is always saying, <em> you gotta tell people when you want things.  </em></p><p>Okay. He's doing it. </p><p>Not that Robby's inclined to give his dad any credit, but he was like, okay about it when Robby started dating Miguel and Tory. </p><p>Not that there was anything for him to be weird about, because like Sam is always saying, <em> he owes you, Robby. </em>Seventeen years' worth of disappearances means Robby's dad has no room to say anything about anything Robby does. </p><p>Not that it stops him. </p><p>It was Miguel's idea, because all the good ideas are Miguel's. Tory and Robby between them are not what you'd call well adjusted, but Miguel loves his mom and his grandma, and they love him. </p><p>So Miguel said, we have to tell them, and then he made this actual meal, not just takeout, and everyone, even Robby's dad, sat down at the table in Miguel's living room and listened to Miguel say, <em> it's called a throuple. </em>Miguel is good at that, just saying the stupidest shit and having it sound not just totally normal but like a great idea, obvious. </p><p>Robby's dad choked on a plantain and Miguel's mom had to do the Heimlich. Miguel's grandma went to the bathroom and came back fifteen minutes later reeking of skunk. Robby wished she'd shared. </p><p>Robby honestly thought Tory was going to climb out the window, and if she didn't he would. She was holding his hand under the table so tight he had a bruise the next day.</p><p>Robby's dad said, "How does it work?" </p><p>Miguel's mom said, "Johnny!" and then she said, "Thank you for telling us," and she hugged Miguel against her side and then Tory and then Robby, too. She smelled good, like shampoo and clean linen. </p><p>Robby's dad squinted at Miguel and then he squinted at Robby and then he said, "All right, Nichols." </p><p>Tory squinted back at him. She's good at that, like Robby is; poker face. "You're welcome, Sensei." </p><p>And after that it was okay. </p><p>So, like Robby's been saying, things could be a lot fucking worse.</p><p>Robby's dad looks like he's done three rounds with LaRusso - as the bag. "Robby, come on. How is this ruining your life?" </p><p>"Fuck you," Robby says, but fuck, Miguel's right, swearing at his dad never got him anywhere. "Since when are you - since when do you fuck men, anyway?" </p><p>"Not men," Robby's dad says, quietly. "Just him." </p><p>Robby's stomach hurts. He goes to the fridge, where there's one of Miguel's grandma's plates covered in tin foil waiting for him. There's beer in there too, but Robby's dad is drinking orange juice so Robby isn't going to be the one to break. "Okay," he says. </p><p>He takes his plate to the microwave, takes one of Miguel's Cokes out of the fridge and pops the top. He can feel the weight of his dad's eyes. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "Let's talk about it."</p><p>That sounds like, fuck. It sounds like Mr LaRusso. </p><p>"Did you guys make a game plan?" Robby asks. "Like, did he write you cue cards?" </p><p>"Would it help if he did?" Robby's dad comes around and sits down at the table. That's vulnerable, being the first one to sit. Robby knows that, because his dad never used to sit down; it would be him and Robby's mom just circling each other around their kitchen table, or the couch, or whatever was there, like Robby's playpen. </p><p>The microwave dings. Robby retrieves his empanadas and sits down. Fuck, he's tired. Miguel got a good hit on his ribs. It was a clean hit, not too hard at all, but he's not exactly bruise-free these days. "Empanada?" </p><p>He's pissed off, of course. But his dad really does look like shit. </p><p>"Yeah, okay." Robby's dad reaches over. His hand is shaking, just a little. </p><p>Fuck. It's not supposed to be Robby's job to notice shit like that. That's what Miguel is for. He's the sensitive son. </p><p>He takes an empanada himself. Actually, fuck, he's so fucking hungry. </p><p>His dad laughs. "Good?" </p><p>Robby swallows a big mouthful. "Yeah." He was kind of worried he'd be rude when he started eating at Miguel's, because like his ex used to say, he has kind of a white trash palate, but Miguel's grandma is used to feeding Robby's dad, and Robby at least will eat a vegetable if it's served to him. So the empanadas are great, not spicy at all. He takes a big sip of Coke and there's the sugar hit, thank you. "You look like shit."</p><p>"Yeah, thanks." Robby's dad takes a smaller bite, careful. "I hate when you just disappear, Robby. I know, don't say it." Blond stubble is heavy on his jawline. </p><p>Robby waves his hand through the air, like, <em> who, me? </em></p><p>"Yeah, well," Robby's dad says. "I know I shouldn't flip out on you. I know you can take care of yourself. I just - I'm glad you live here. Okay?" </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "You can read out your talking points now." </p><p>Robby's dad rolls his eyes. "I don't have cue cards," he says. "I did talk to Daniel," <em> Daniel? </em>"but only because I don't want to fuck this up. Any more than it's already fucked." </p><p>"Yeah, well," Robby says. He shakes his head. "Sorry." </p><p>They don't really know how to do conflict. Miguel's always saying like, you need to listen more and assert yourself, and he has these acronyms for what Robby's supposed to remember, but Miguel's full of shit because he'd break a nose in a fight just the same as Robby. Robby's dad and Robby, between them, would rather slam their heads into each other than have a real conversation. Which fucking sucks, as it turns out. </p><p>Okay. Remember the fight, Robby? Remember who you are. </p><p>What matters? This matters. It didn't use to, but it does now. They both want this relationship to work, Robby and his dad, and as much as Robby's waiting for the other shoe to drop he really does want his dad to catch it. </p><p>"He's not the first," Robby says. "The first married person. Right? Is he the first man? Was he <em> always </em> the man?" Fuck. When Robby was a kid his dad told stories about how he was so fucking good at karate, about how Robby would grow up and be just as good, maybe better. He always looked different when he was talking about LaRusso, animated with something. Robby never knew what it was but now it's starting to fall into place. </p><p>Robby's dad flinches. "I don't know how much of this is good for you," he says. "I was a different person for a long time. A worse person." </p><p>Robby knows that, because Robby was not as nice of a person as he is now for a long time, too. But the difference is that Robby's dad fucked Robby up, and the person who fucked up Robby's dad isn't in this room. </p><p>Robby says, "You know what they did for me, right?" </p><p>Robby's dad looks down. He really does look like shit. Like boiled-over meatloaf. "Yeah."</p><p>"It's like," Robby says, quietly, "like how Miguel came. And you were shitty before him, and now you're not." He swallows. "It's not like that, right? It's not because I- I didn't take Miguel from you." </p><p>"Jesus Christ, no." At least that's firm, automatic. "No, Robby. I know I don't understand what you're doing half the time - more than half - but are you fucking kidding me? I love that kid, and I love you." </p><p>Miguel always says, <em> remember that he's trying his best </em> , and <em> remember it's about what he isn't saying</em>. In this case, Robby's dad is not saying, <em> I wish you would break up so I could have my best student slash better son back. </em></p><p>That is a little fucked. Sometimes Tory says, <em> hey it's like an anime where you're brothers, </em> and Miguel says<em>, can you read a fucking book, please</em>, but in the clipped kind of way that means really shut the fuck up. </p><p>"Mr LaRusso?" Robby says. He thinks the tiredness comes through. Maybe his voice cracks. "Really?"</p><p>Robby's dad laughs, a hollow, surprised sound. "I swear to god, I didn't see it coming. Thirty-five years, Robby - if I'd been thinking about it at all I'd have saved myself the liver damage." </p><p>Robby picks at his can. The tab comes off when he yanks. "Really? You didn't think about it at all?"</p><p>"Really," Robby's dad says. He sighs. "It wasn't like it is now. It wasn't something you could even think about, being with a man. If it wasn't for you -"</p><p>"Glad I could help with your big gay awakening," Robby says. Too sharp, fuck. He's gonna cut himself, like Tory's always saying. </p><p>"Yeah, thanks," Robby's dad says, not giving an inch. "It's not an excuse. I just want you to know it's not something I was hiding from you, ever. Not on purpose." His eyes catch the glare of the kitchen light. "That he's married, that's -" </p><p>"A hiccup," Robby offers. He feels like, you know, when you're like <em> so </em>tired but you're still moving, the way that last false wind picks you up and carries you along. "Just a little bump in the road." He runs his fingers through his hair. It's tangled from the fight and there's, gross, dirt under his nails now. "You don't even like each other. I kept saying, hey, why don't you work together? Which was stupid, right, because-" </p><p>"It's not a conspiracy," Robby's dad says. "It was an accident, at first. A mistake. And then it was - and then we both realized how important it was to us." </p><p>"He has <em> kids</em>," Robby says. "Mrs LaRusso got me into school. Sam - I've never had a friend like Sam. Mr LaRusso saved my life, do you get that?" Fuck. His face feels hot and tight. He wipes his nose with the back of his hand. "You just fuck everything up, you know? And this was supposed to be mine. Pretty much nothing's been mine. Like, ever."</p><p>Robby's dad doesn't say anything for a long time. </p><p>Robby doesn't want to look up at him, because <em> god </em> he hates having feelings around his fucking dad, he'd rather have hemorrhoids. He stares at the little design on the china plate, underneath the empanada crumbs. A nice little flower. His eyes hurt but he is <em> not </em>going to let them do anything fucking stupid, like tear up. </p><p>Finally: "Robby," Robby's dad says, quietly. "Fuck. If you really - I can end it."</p><p>Robby lifts his head. </p><p>His dad is looking at him, and maybe now Robby is looking for it or maybe it was there all along, but he looks like Robby ripped his heart out of his chest. "You're the most important person," Robby's dad says, softly. "Okay? I'll call him. It's done."</p><p>Robby closes his eyes. "Really?" </p><p>The sound of his dad getting up, the soft fall of his feet, the warmth of his arms around Robby and the scratch of his stubble against Robby's forehead as Robby's dad presses a kiss to his forehead. "Really." </p><p>  </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby’s bed is tiny and the mattress sucks; it barely fits Robby, and it has lumps in it. He’s used to it, mostly, but tonight he sleeps like shit, tossing and turning the whole time. When he does manage to drift off he dreams of being alone in an empty, barren, field. </p><p>Robby's dad isn't normally up when Robby leaves - perks of teaching after school classes - but he's sitting at the table when Robby comes out of his room, bent over like he was last night. If the clothes hadn't changed Robby would think he hadn't moved. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. </p><p>Robby's dad smiles. It's a real smile; it makes it to his eyes. "Hey, kid."</p><p>Just on principle Robby doesn't apologise to his dad. But he feels like he could. </p><p>He pours himself some cereal and then some for his dad. They're almost out of milk. Robby is not broke right now, which is cool, and it's all taxed and shit too, thanks to LaRusso Auto. So maybe he'll get some milk on his way home from Miyagi-do. </p><p>He could ask his dad for money for this stuff, probably, but. He doesn't want to. And he doesn't have to, so it's fine. </p><p>"Thanks." Robby's dad is still smiling, looking at Robby like he's just glad Robby's here. </p><p>It's stupid. It makes Robby smile back. </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. He eats his cereal. </p><p>Robby's dad picks up his spoon, stares at it like it knows something. "I, uh, called him. Last night."</p><p>"Oh." Robby looks at his cereal. "Thanks."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "It's okay."</p><p>It doesn't feel okay. But Robby's used to that, and so is his dad, so they eat in silence and it's not the worst it's ever been. </p><p>He washes his bowl when he's done and says goodbye before he heads out. </p><p>Thankfully Miguel's waiting by Robby's car with a cup of coffee. "Morning," he says, handing it over. </p><p>Robby takes a sip, says, "I'm so happy to see you." The coffee is milky and sweet, a milkshake with caffeine. </p><p>Miguel catches Robby's face with his hand, rubs his thumb over Robby's cheekbone. "Yeah?"</p><p>Robby leans in to kiss him. "Yeah."</p><p>Robby almost didn't take the car. It was Mrs LaRusso's idea, because all good ideas are from Mrs LaRusso. </p><p>(It was also Mrs LaRusso's idea to get Robby's dad to help him put up a shelf for his bonsais in the bedroom, which was nice because it made Robby's dad stop bitching about Robby's plants and start bragging about his shelving. Robby's dad bitches all the time about doing handyman shit but he also fucking loves it, because he's a freak who ties his self worth to his masculinity.)</p><p>Robby was doing fine. Sometimes Tory would drive him and Miguel to school, or they'd take the bus, and Sam or Mr LaRusso would take him home after karate, or Robby's dad would come pick him up. It did kind of suck to just bounce around between people, but it was working fine.</p><p>Mrs LaRusso said, "You should have something of your own," and she was smiling when she said it, the kind of serious smile Robby always wished his mom would have. "Besides, it's good publicity for the dealership. You're a great driver."</p><p>It made him feel weird, but she wrote him up a contract and everything. It's the equivalent of one shift at LaRusso Auto every two weeks for a year, which is absolutely not market rate, but it was nice to think about. That he was going to stay all that time. That they wouldn't get bored, that they didn't think he'd fuck it up. </p><p>Like Robby said, Mrs LaRusso is the smart one. And it's a good little car. </p><p>He won't smoke weed in it though. (Not until it's officially paid off.) That's just about respect. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Sam's waiting in first period English, more fucking Shakespeare like Shakespeare isn't extremely, seriously dead. She's got a death grip on her coffee cup and her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head. </p><p>"So," she says, quietly, "something happened last night."</p><p>Robby's stomach falls out. "Sam-" </p><p>"I need you to not judge me," she says. "Can you do that?" </p><p>Robby takes a deep breath. If she was gonna say,<em> I caught our dads fucking</em>, she'd have said it. "Of course."</p><p>She closes her eyes. "I kissed Demetri last night."</p><p>"Who?" Robby does technically know who all the Model UN nerds are, because Sam has told him about them, but he also sometimes glazes over. It's not his fault, there are just so many of them and when you talk to them they all blur into the same mass of nerd. </p><p>Sam scowls. "Don't make me say it again, Robby, I'll die."</p><p>"I'm serious," Robby says, "do I know him?" He's trying to run through them in his mind. There's the one with the ties, the one with the hair, the one with the glasses - </p><p>"<em>Demetri</em>, Robby." She narrows her eyes. </p><p>"Wait. Our Demetri? Game of Thrones Demetri?" His voice pitches up too high at the end. </p><p>"You wanna say that any louder so the whole class hears?" </p><p>Robby doesn't mean to laugh. It's just that he's so fucking relieved, it bubbles out of him.</p><p>He likes Demetri, anyway. He's a weird kid but the world hasn't kicked the weirdness out of him, and that's kind of cool, you know? Special. </p><p>"Sorry, sorry."</p><p>She hits him in the shoulder, but lightly. "This is serious!" </p><p>"Did you, for real, get horny at Model UN?" He can't help his own grin, stretched so wide his face hurts. </p><p>"I hate you so much!" She's smiling a little bit, though. "I don't know. We only kissed. He was talking about human rights."</p><p>"I guess you found the one way to shut him up," Robby teases. "Or did he keep talking?" </p><p>Sam rolls her eyes. "No, it was good, actually."</p><p>"Huh," Robby says. Kind of chewing on it, the idea of Sam and long, awkward, Demetri. "You think you're gonna do it again?" </p><p>She's blushing, just a little, but it's nice to see. Robby loves Sam, and for a little while he was in love with her, but now things are different and he was scared of that, at first, but they're good. "Maybe."</p><p>"It sounded weird at first," Robby says, "but you know, the more I think about it-" </p><p>Demetri is a nice kid. Really. And Sam is a nice kid. And with both of them what you see is what you get. </p><p>"Yeah," Sam says, biting her lip. "Me too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is mostly a pretty good friend, he thinks, especially to Sam. But today he is extremely grateful Sam is busy with this crisis and can't see that he looks like dog shit and can't focus on anything all day. </p><p>Thanks, Demetri. Not something Robby says a lot. Or at least not like he means it. </p><p>So they haven't talked about Robby at all by the time they head to Miyagi-do. Normally Sam can spot Robby's discomfort from 20 paces in a stiff wind. Maybe he does want to talk about it, but not with Sam, for once. </p><p>Sam is nervous to see Demetri, which is so fucking funny because Robby's met Demetri and for sure Demetri is doing enough freaking out for both of them. So Sam should at least reap the benefits and get to be chill. </p><p>Robby, on the other hand, is justifiably nervous to see Mr LaRusso. Mr LaRusso's going to say <em> go home Robby, I never want to see you again. </em>But Mr LaRusso just waves them all in like it's normal, like Robby just had one extremely bad dream and now he's awake. </p><p>They're doing more balance work today. Robby's grateful for the time to clear his head, just him and Sam on the board, listening to each other breathe. They're both out of it but it's easy to snap back in, easier than anything else in the world. His body knows this. </p><p>God, why didn't he and Sam work? </p><p>Lots of reasons, Keene. Most of them about you. </p><p>Some of them about Sam. </p><p>Mostly you, though. </p><p>Sam sees Demetri come in through the gate and falls into the pond. </p><p>Robby laughs so hard his stomach hurts, but after that he pulls her out. She splutters at him and goes to shower. </p><p>He leans against the side of the house, enjoying the sunshine. It's a nice day, but he's glad it wasn't him who fell in; he's mastered the last second jump to land by now. </p><p>Mr LaRusso catches his elbow. "You okay?" </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He feels sick. He hates this. </p><p>Mr LaRusso tows him very gently to a corner by the dojo, where they can see the rest of the yard, filled with kata, but nobody can hear them. "Robby. Talk to me."</p><p>"It's fine," Robby says. "I'm fine, really."</p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs. "I know this is confusing and hard," he says. "But I really am here for you."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He can't meet Mr LaRusso's eyes. </p><p>"I guess your dad told you?" Mr LaRusso says, gently. "You don't have to worry. It's over."</p><p>"He didn't -" Robby blinks. <em> He didn't tell you it was because of me?  </em></p><p>"Your dad's like that," Mr LaRusso says, ruefully. "Scared of good things. It's good you saw us, I think. I really was ready to ruin everything, and I'd have regretted it."</p><p>Robby swallows. "Yeah," he says. "That's my dad."</p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs, shoving his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. "I'm sorry, Robby," he says. "I shouldn't have put you into this position. Not for your dad."</p><p>Robby's stomach hurts. "It's okay," he says. "It's over now, right?" </p><p>"Yeah." Mr LaRusso claps him on the shoulder. "Only up from here."</p><p>Then Sam comes out of the dojo, towelling her hair, and Demetri falls directly onto the bridge on his face. That kid's such a noodle, when he goes down he goes down <em> hard. </em> So there's blood everywhere, and it's a whole thing.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby has not been <em> avoiding </em> Tory. The word <em> avoid </em> implies like, a conscious choice. Robby has simply been choosing things that do not involve getting close enough for Tory to see his face. </p><p>Tory is a shark. She sees blood and she goes. It's not like she does it on purpose, it just happens.</p><p>Robby's dad and Miguel get done around the same time as Robby at Miyagi-do. Sometimes Robby stays for dinner with Sam and the LaRussos but he does, technically, have an essay due in three days so he should go home and do that.</p><p>Sam makes a little panicked face - Demetri face, Robby decides - but it's good for her to have a little time to think about it by herself, without someone who's had his tongue in her mouth.</p><p>Usually that's not really an issue but sometimes it is. Like, right now.</p><p>So Robby goes home after karate. He's not going to feel bad about it. It's the right thing to do.</p><p>He parks around the corner, like usual, takes his time walking up. His hair's a little tacky from the dried sweat. He's been thinking about cutting it off, but if he did how could he piss his dad off? Well, by seducing his favourite student. So maybe he could cut it off.</p><p>Tory's sitting out front, smoking. "Hey, Swayze." She offers him an easy, sloping smile, only a hint of her teeth.</p><p>He sits down next to her, dropping his backpack next to him. "Nichols." </p><p>She hands him the cigarette. "What's up?" Her hair's back in her karate braid, eyeliner smudged around her eyes. </p><p>He takes a drag. Thank you, nicotine. "Been a minute." This is dojo vs dojo shit: waiting for the other to strike first. </p><p>She raises one eyebrow. "Yeah. I noticed." She plucks the cig out of his hand. "You wanna talk about it?"</p><p>"Not really," he says.</p><p>"Okay," she says, and then she turns her face and they are kissing.</p><p>It's funny how it feels, with them. It's not like it feels with Miguel and he thinks that probably she'd say the same thing. With Miguel it feels like a choice, like Miguel is a person Robby would spot across oceans, in a forest fire; like there's a whole world of terrible choices and all of them kicked Robby's ass but they also lead him here, to Miguel Diaz, wearing a Cobra Kai sweatshirt that Robby's dad screenprinted himself. Sometimes Robby catches himself thinking about Miguel and fucking <em>reels</em>, because it's fucking stupid how much he just likes this guy. How he likes Miguel in a way that's different from anyone else, how he likes him and wants to be like him and doesn't want to spend any more days of his life without knowing Miguel.</p><p>Tory's hand curls around his cheek and she crawls into his lap, the weight of her familiar and warm. She tastes like smoke and licorice, breaking the kiss apart to rest her forehead against his. "Hey." </p><p>"Hi." He grins. </p><p>So that's what it's like, with Tory. It's like having someone know exactly who you are, without having to try. Sometimes it's too much to handle; other times it feels like it would be fighting gravity to keep them apart. </p><p>Either way, he's grateful to have Miguel between them. It wouldn't work without him, and that's the truth they both know. </p><p>Sometimes it makes him think about the way his mom and dad fight, but he tries not to think about that, because it's a recipe for fucking everything up. </p><p>She settles against his thighs. "Bad day?" </p><p>"Not that bad. Thanks for the empanadas." There's an eyelash on her cheek; he brushes it off with the ball of his thumb. </p><p>"You know I had nothing to do with that." She laughs, her easy rough laugh. "Where were you?" </p><p>It's not like Miguel. It's easy to lie to Miguel, because Robby is looking out for Miguel. Miguel's tough and there's a lot he can handle, but sometimes Robby just doesn't want him to have to. Especially shit like this, where it's Robby's dad being Robby's dad.</p><p>Tory, though, is suspicious by nature and by nurture. It makes her brittle sometimes, quick to jump to conclusions and hold a grudge, but hard to shock. "Your dad?" </p><p>He blinks.</p><p>"You'd have told Miguel, otherwise," she says. "And Hawk got a hit on Sensei, today."</p><p>"Ah." It doesn't feel great to think about, even though Robby's never thought of his dad as untouchable. </p><p>She rolls sideways, back on to the curb. The cig is smoking between her fingers, undisturbed.</p><p>"It's okay now," he says. "We - it's over."</p><p>"Okay," she says. She pushes his hair back, out of his eyes, combing her fingers gently through it. "Hey, we're throwing a party Friday, at the canyon. You can bring Sam if you want, but if you bring that beanpole kid you have to sit on Hawk, because I'm not gonna."</p><p>He steals the cig for one last drag, then stamps it out under his shoe and gets to his feet. "Maybe. You coming back in?" </p><p>"Nah, I gotta go home. Just wanted to see you." </p><p>"Thanks," he says. He offers her his hand.</p><p>She grins at him, swift, easy, and gets up on her own. "See you tomorrow." </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby’s dad is in the armchair and Miguel is lying on the couch, socked feet up on the arm. Iron Eagle is on the TV, but Miguel lifts his head when Robby comes in. “Hey.” That easy, familiar smile.</p><p>Robby drops his backpack at the door, coming over to lift Miguel’s legs so he can sit underneath them. “Again?”</p><p>“It’s a classic,” Robby’s dad says, not looking at them. “You want a beer?”</p><p>Miguel lifts one shoulder and drops it. That means, <em> I didn’t want to leave him alone. </em></p><p>Robby sighs and leans over to kiss Miguel’s cheek. He used to do it to make a point to his dad but now he just does it. “Looks like you’ve had enough for both of us,” he says, counting the empties: three, in the forty-five minutes since they usually wrap at Cobra Kai. Not great, not the worst.</p><p>Miguel lifts one knee and knocks it against Robby's chest. <em> Knock it off</em>. </p><p>Robby catches the knee with the flat of his hand, squeezes once. <em> If you say so. </em>"You staying for dinner?" </p><p>"You want me to?" </p><p>Robby looks at his dad and at Miguel. He could handle it by himself. He's used to it: just don't start a fight until Robby's dad is shitfaced, then put him to bed. But Miguel keeps saying, <em> I want to be here when you want me. </em>"Yeah."</p><p>Miguel grins, at that. He has this stupid smile that takes over his entire face, his whole body. "Okay."</p><p>Robby's dad is staring at Iron Eagle. He knows every fucking word for sure, but he gets like this when Miguel and Robby are being like this. Robby thought it was just him being an asshole but maybe it's not. Well, it is, but it's a different kind of asshole. </p><p>It's like, the triage is done, the bleeding's stopped, Robby's life isn't about to blow up, and now the actual truth of the thing is slamming into him like a truck. <em> Robby's dad is gay. </em>Or like, bisexual, whatever, the important thing is Robby's dad is not straight and that is some fundamental disassembly of the architecture of Robby's life. </p><p>"Robby?" Miguel sits up, squinting. "Hey."</p><p>"Sorry," Robby says, resting his palm on Miguel's thigh. "Just thinking."</p><p>"Don't hurt yourself," Miguel grins, and his eyes flick back and forth between Robby and his dad, because Miguel won't kiss Robby first in front of his dad but he will kiss Robby back. </p><p>"What do you want for dinner?" Robby asks, teasing, drawing it out. </p><p>Miguel is staring at his mouth, being not even a little subtle about it. "Robby-" </p><p>"Is there brisket? I could go for brisket."</p><p>Miguel punches his shoulder and Robby laughs into his mouth, leans over and in so he can get his hand tangled in the short hair at the base of Miguel's neck and pull him into the inevitable kiss. </p><p>God, he likes kissing Miguel. He's pretty sure the feeling is mutual. </p><p>Robby's dad coughs. </p><p>Robby would prefer to ignore it, but Miguel thumps his shoulder and breaks away. "Sorry, Sensei."</p><p>Robby's dad crushes his can and gets up, heading to the fridge. "You sure, Robby?" </p><p>"Yeah, Dad, it's a school night. Thanks, though." He'd love a joint right now, though, if he's honest. He has one rolled in his bedroom, but Miguel hates doing things Robby's dad doesn't like right in front of him, so he won't. </p><p>Robby's dad hmms and fishes his beer out of the fridge. </p><p>Miguel looks at him, then at Robby. "We should eat something."</p><p>Robby's dad is 5'11, 180; some leftover brisket is not gonna stop him if he wants to hit a brick wall of beer. But Miguel is sweet and Robby is hungry, so-</p><p>"Okay," Robby says, swinging Miguel's legs over to the side so he can get up. "Coke?" </p><p>Robby's dad settles back into his chair. He is still not looking at Robby. Robby will <em> not </em>feel like shit about this, it is not his job. </p><p>"Sure," Miguel says. "Thanks."</p><p>Robby's dad says, "You know, when I was a kid," and then he stops talking. </p><p>Miguel tucks his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. "Yeah, Sensei?" </p><p>Robby thinks: shit. He watches the brisket revolve in the microwave. Maybe he should have that beer. </p><p>No, because if he does Miguel will get worried and Miguel can only be worried about one person in this apartment at a time, and Robby's dad called dibs. Fuck, Robby hates being a good person. </p><p>He tosses Miguel his Coke can and pours himself a glass of orange juice. He could use some health. </p><p>"I was just thinking," Robby's dad says. He did not shave today. "You couldn't be like the two of you are. You just couldn't."</p><p>"Uh," Miguel says, warily. "Sensei, where are you going with this?" He looks at Robby. </p><p>Robby leans his hip against the kitchen counter, shrugs. He thinks he knows, but that doesn't mean he has any idea what to do about it. </p><p>Robby's dad frowns into his beer. "Just that of course I wouldn't have known. It wasn't something I even knew was possible."</p><p>"Sensei?"</p><p>Ah, fuck. </p><p>"Gay people were definitely, like, around in the 80s," Miguel says. "You probably just weren't looking, which isn't your fault, either -" </p><p>"Miguel," Robby says. </p><p>"What?" There must be something in Robby's face, because Miguel shuts his mouth so fast his teeth click. </p><p>Robby's dad is busy with his beer, anyway. "Danny LaRusso," he says. "God, that kid was a little shit. Could not keep his damn mouth shut."</p><p>Miguel is blinking at Robby, eyes wide, like an owl. </p><p>Robby abandons the brisket and goes to sit beside him. Not too touchy but their shoulders bump together and he feels Miguel press some of his weight against him, and he doesn't know if it's for Miguel or for Robby but he feels better and Miguel isn't pulling away. </p><p>"He just, never knew what was good for him, you know? Never shut up, never stayed in his place. We all knew where we belonged and he just didn't give a shit." Robby's dad sounds fucking <em>dead</em>. Fuck. </p><p>Miguel shivers. Robby wants to put his arm around him, but he doesn't. </p><p>"I liked that about him. That he was brave. Maybe I should have seen it coming then." </p><p>"Dad," Robby says, sharp, a warning. That's verging on the secret Robby said he'd keep, which is not Robby's dad's to share. </p><p>Robby's dad shakes his head, eyes snapping to Robby and then to the place between Robby and Miguel where their shoulders are touching. "Fuck," he says. "I could have had all this time."</p><p>"Sensei?" Miguel asks. "Are you saying -" </p><p>Robby's dad coughs again, draining the last of his beer. There's another beside him that opens with a hiss. "I guess I am, Diaz. How do you even begin? What do you even say?" </p><p>"Oh," Miguel says. He elbows Robby, hard. "Well, we're here for you. Whatever you want to say, however you want to say it. Right, Robby?" </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. "We'll get you an app."</p><p>"A fucking app," Robby's dad says. He looks hollow. "The fucking future."</p><p>Miguel elbows him again. "Thank you for telling us," he says. "I know it's not easy."</p><p>Robby almost laughs at that. When they told Miguel's family Miguel's grandma made them a cake. It was fucking delicious. </p><p>He squeezes Miguel's hand, instead. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks for trusting us."</p><p>Robby's dad swallows more beer. "Couldn't have done it without you." He doesn't sound all that grateful about it. </p><p>The microwave chimes. Thank fucking god. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel is so much better than Robby at this shit. Maybe it's selfish but Robby is glad that he doesn't go home, just stays up with Robby and Robby's dad to watch Iron Eagle II and help Robby pour his dad into bed. </p><p>"Thank you," Robby says, and he means it, whole-heartedly. </p><p>Miguel sighs and scrubs his hand through his hair. "Is this what you've been fucking weird about?" </p><p>Robby swallows, splits the difference. "I couldn't tell you."</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Miguel says. He sways a little bit, back and forth. It's late. "Fuck."</p><p>"Are you - do you want me to walk you home?" All thirty two seconds across the courtyard, but he likes getting to kiss Miguel at the door. </p><p>Miguel closed his eyes and then he says, "Robby, why don't you want to have sex with me?" </p><p>Fuck, fuck, fucking fuckity fucksticks. Fuck. </p><p>"Miguel," Robby says. "You really wanna do this now?" </p><p>"You didn't have sex with Sam," Miguel says, slowly, softly. "But you did have sex with Luke." </p><p>Robby reaches out for him, and Miguel lets himself be drawn in, not all the way, but close. </p><p>"I have got to be the only virgin in California who has a boyfriend and a girlfriend," Miguel says, tiredly. He settles his hands on Robby's sides, over his hips. His fingers are warm. </p><p>"It's not a bad thing," Robby says, helpless. "I just - we just don't want to fuck it up."</p><p>"Well," Miguel says, quietly, "here's me, telling you: it's been five months, and both of you treat me like a hot potato when I try. So. It's getting fucked up."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Robby says. "That's not - of course I want to. Fuck."</p><p>Miguel laughs, very short. "Or not."</p><p>Robby tucks his face into the collar of Miguel's shirt, breathing in. He always smells so good. It's un fucking fair. "Miguel -" </p><p>"We shouldn't do this now," Miguel says. His hand comes up to curl around the back of Robby's neck, fingerprints familiar and satisfying. "I'm sorry, I'm just tired." </p><p>"I don't want you to feel like that," Robby says, drawing back a little, so Miguel can see his face, see his eyes.  Sometimes Robby finesses the truth with Miguel, but not about something like this. Not about something that means something. "It's not like that at all, you know? We just - both of us - we like you so much. And it was so complicated for me, and I just - I need to untangle that first, you know? So I don't tangle you up in it, too."</p><p>Miguel sighs. He leans forward so their foreheads can touch. "Robby," he says. "It's okay, we shouldn't - we need to go to sleep. But just - you know I'm tangled already, right? Because I am."</p><p>Robby's stomach does a little flip. It's sweet, and it's honest, because Miguel is both of those things, always. Robby is doing his best to live in Miguel's world, where things are bad but work out good in the end, but it's hard to trust. It's getting easier. </p><p>"Hey," Miguel says. He kisses Robby gently, right there in Robby's dad's living room. No tongue but it's nice, easy, safe, good. "I should go home."</p><p>Robby sighs. He wraps his arms around Miguel, because he can, and he wants to. "Do you have to?"</p><p>"Are you asking me to stay?" Miguel's fingers tangle in Robby's hair. "Just to sleep."</p><p>Robby swallows. He whispers, "Please."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's bedroom is much nicer than it used to be; his dad put up a bunch of shelves for his bonsais, so they get good light, and it means everything is dappled green when the sun is out. Miguel and Tory and Sam and Demetri brought him pictures, and Mr LaRusso gave him a print of Okinawa. So it looks nice. Like a place where Robby lives. Where he belongs. </p><p>It's really fucking nice to go to sleep with Miguel wrapped around him, the two of them crammed together with Robby’s foot hanging off the edge of the twin mattress and Miguel crammed against the wall. It's less nice to wake up alone, with what feels like the trace of Miguel in the bed next to him like a ghost, even though he knew it was what he signed up for, and he doesn't want Miguel's grandma mad at him, either.</p><p>He gets up anyway, even though it sucks. His trees need to be watered, and he should get some time to trim them soon, too. His head's not clear enough for it right now, but if he puts it off too long it'll be a bitch. </p><p>He waters and then he leaves his bedroom. It feels like emerging from a cocoon; he has to blink a bunch of times before his eyes adjust to the full light. </p><p>"Morning," Robby's dad says. He's frying bologna on the stove and he looks <em>bad</em>. Not like apocalypse bad, like Robby moved back in with the LaRussos bad, but pretty bad. </p><p>Robby slides into his seat at the kitchen table. "You feeling okay?"</p><p>Robby's dad laughs. "Kid, I've had more hangovers than you have hot dinners."</p><p><em> If that's true it's because you're a shitty cook, </em> Robby thinks, does not say. "That's not what I asked."</p><p>The bologna sizzles. Robby's dad sighs. "It had to be said," he says. "Keeping it a secret - well, you know. It wasn't good for me."</p><p>Robby can't help thinking about Mr LaRusso. About the way his dad said, <em> Danny LaRusso broke all the rules</em>. Fuck. "Yeah," Robby says. "It sucks when it's like that. You can't get your head straight. So you can't see all the things that are going wrong."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Robby's dad says, quietly. "You should have been able to tell me sooner."</p><p>It's so fucking strange that Robby's dad can just come out and say it. If you'd told Robby this would be happening three years ago he'd have laughed in your face. "It's okay," Robby says. "I don't mind telling you now."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Eventually Robby's dad falls asleep, a real genuine rest, and Miguel brings out the blanket from his bed and says, "Do you want me to stay?" but he looks so tired Robby shakes his head, says, "I can handle it," and watches him leave.</p><p>Robby shuts the door behind Miguel and his mom. Now it's just Robby, and his dad, asleep. That feels like - normal. Like something Robby understands.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content for this chapter: a little drugs + alcohol, referenced abusive relationships, healthy cobra kai attitudes towards conflict resolution, off-screen john kreese</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Miguel half-naps all the way to school, head tucked against the window, like a bird in a rainstorm. Robby doesn't turn the radio on, just lets his eyes go back and forth between the road and the soft curve of Miguel's cheek. </p><p>Robby's ex used to drive them to school, kind of like this. Robby would nap in the passenger seat of his Rover and Luke would sing along to whatever was playing, softly, in his low pleasant voice, and then when they got to school he'd wake Robby up out of his half-sleep with a kiss to his forehead. </p><p>There were times when Luke was a good boyfriend. It's easy to forget about them, because of all the times that he was terrible, but there <em>were</em> things he did right. Robby wants to do those things for Miguel, and for Tory, too. </p><p>Miguel yawns, huge and exaggerated. "Ugh," he says, knuckling the sleep out of his eyes. "Thanks for the ride."</p><p>"Yeah, of course." Robby leans over and they are kissing, just gently. "What do you have, chem?" </p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says, making a face. "I'll see you for Shakespeare again, right?" </p><p>Robby smoothes Miguel's hair back. He didn't have time for gel and it's sticking up all over the place. Robby kind of likes it like that. "Yeah."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>First period, Robby has bio. Usually he sits with Sam but Demetri snags the empty seat before she can. </p><p>"Hi," Robby says. </p><p>"Hello," Demetri says. He really has kind of a twitchy little face. Robby is fond of it. It's not that Demetri is likeable or easy to talk to, but that he is still here despite being neither of those things. "Do you want to talk about chlorophyll?"</p><p>"Not really," Robby says. "Do you?" </p><p>"No," Demetri says. He looks a little bit green, so maybe he does have something to say about photosynthetic cells. </p><p>Robby settles into his seat. He could end the kid's misery, but hey. Life has so few perks.</p><p>Demetri gulps audibly, and nuts up. "So, uh," he says. "You and Sam."</p><p>Robby lets himself smirk. He's not a bad kid anymore, but god does he know how to play one on TV. "Yeah?" </p><p>"You're best friends," Demetri says. He ducks his head; he's all neck so he looks like a goose. "Right?"</p><p>Robby shrugs. Aisha, maybe, but yeah, Sam is Robby's best friend. It sucked because at first he didn't get that, and he thought it was something else, but this is better. Now he and Sam can talk to each other. "Sure."</p><p>Demetri says, "I just think that I should get better at karate. Because you're really good at karate, obviously, and so is Miguel, and I am-"</p><p>Robby should say, <em> you're fine, Demetri</em>. It would not be <em> not </em> true, because Demetri does show up for the drills and if you get him really up against the wall Mr LaRusso's training does kick in, but, in general -  "You think Sam cares about that?"</p><p>"I don't know," Demetri says, quietly. "That's why I'm asking you."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. "<em> Oh. </em> " It's kind of nice. That's never happened before - Robby's mom's had shitty boyfriends, sure, and Robby's said like, <em> I'll beat you to death with my skateboard if you come near her again - </em>but it's not like he ever got to do it. And it's not like any of them ever asked him first.</p><p>Demetri hunches his shoulders. "So-"</p><p>Robby says, "I don't think she expects you to be suddenly great at karate."</p><p>Demetri looks at his hands. "Do you think it would <em> hurt</em>, though?"</p><p>God, where did you find this kid, Robby thinks. He doesn't think ever a day in his life he's been this open, this obvious, about anything. It makes him feel - fuck. "Okay," he says. "I'm at LaRusso Auto Thursdays and Saturdays. Why don't you come by when I'm in the lot and we'll do some extra drills? Sam won't be expecting either of us."</p><p>Demetri says, "Really?"</p><p>Robby lets himself smile. "Yeah," he says. "Really."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tory's not sitting with the Cobras at lunch. Not that Robby pays too much attention, because the custody agreement is that Sam gets him at school and Miyagi-do and Tory and Miguel get him before school and after karate. He thinks there's some alternate weekend scheduling but it's not really his business, he just shows up. </p><p>Sam is sitting next to Demetri, which means Demetri is sitting next to Sam. They are carefully not looking at each other. </p><p>Robby is eating an apple and pretending not to notice that Sam and Demetri are not looking at each other. It is weird that Tory's not sitting with Miguel and Aisha, though. And the mohawk kid's gone too. </p><p>Huh. </p><p>Well, if he needs to know someone will tell him. He's not about to text his girlfriend <em> where are you </em>like some kind of controlling asshole. Robby's ex used to do that, but Robby never knew where he was, and that made the whole thing worse. Not that Robby is thinking about his ex. That's done, has to be.</p><p>Sam waves her hand in front of his face. "Earth to Robby, come in Robby."</p><p>"Sorry," he says, shaking his head. "What's up?"</p><p>"We're just talking about colleges," Sam says. "We were thinking we'd go through some of the flyers and stuff in study hall, if you want? Demetri got a ton."</p><p>Demetri nods. "I definitely got too many. An overwhelming number, you could say."</p><p>Robby - does not know what to do with that. Robby was a high school dropout three months ago; college has never even been on the cards for him. For a while Robby's ex would say, <em> oh, you should come with me, </em>but he figured out pretty quick that's not something Robby is going to do. College kids just aren't Robby's kind of person. They're Sams and Demetris, but not Robbys.</p><p>"Hey," Sam says. "Don't worry about it. Forget I said anything." She's looking at him like all the times Robby talks about his mom, or when Mr LaRusso had to come and bail Robby out of his mom's apartment when they had no power. Next year Sam is going to be in a completely different place and Robby will be -</p><p>Robby bites into his apple. "Okay."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Today Robby is the one who gets dunked at Miyagi-do. It's totally his own fault but it is fucking cold. He doesn't <em> want </em> to be cold but it definitely helps with the fucking - whatever - that's happening in his stomach. He's never wanted to go to college, but he just can't stop thinking about it, and that's not very balanced, at all.</p><p>He comes out of the shower to his phone ringing. Two missed calls. All Miguel.</p><p>Fear spikes low through his belly. "Diaz?" </p><p>"Hey. Can you get home?" Miguel sounds strained, like he's keeping his voice even, like he doesn't want to freak Robby out.</p><p>"What?" But Miguel wouldn't ask if he wasn't serious, so Robby's already fishing through his jeans pocket for his car keys. </p><p>"I don't want to-" Miguel breaks away, the sound of his voice muffled, and then, "Nobody's in the hospital. Just - get home."</p><p>Robby breaks every speed limit. He feels like he can see time. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby does not park around the street. He just pulls in next to the Challenger, slams out of the door. His hair's dripping down the back of his neck, he didn't tie his shoelaces. </p><p>"Miguel?" </p><p>Miguel's okay, which feels stupid but god, it felt like Robby's heart was going to just climb out of his chest and then like, keep going. Miguel looks fine, even, wearing his gi, no black eye, no blood; just standing in the doorway of Robby’s dad’s apartment.</p><p>"Where's Tory?" </p><p>Miguel can't answer because Robby is hugging him extremely tightly, which is yes embarrassing but also making Robby feel better, so. He feels exactly the same as normal, lean and wiry and strong. “Robby!”</p><p>Robby lets go but doesn’t step back. “Sorry.”</p><p>Miguel sighs, leans in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s your dad,” he says. "Thanks for letting me practice driving in your car, by the way."</p><p>"Shit," Robby says. The Challenger did look uneven.</p><p>"Robby?" That's Robby's dad. He's lying on the couch, struggling upwards into a seat. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>"I called him," Miguel says. "You shouldn't move, Sensei. The ice-" </p><p>Robby has a second to look, really look, and shit. Robby's dad looks <em> awful. </em> He's dressed for work, in his gi. There are three bags of ice on his chest, and his eye is swelling, and there's blood on his hands and his nose. "What happened?" he asks Miguel, softly. </p><p>"Sensei Kreese," Miguel says, equally softly. The way he says it is like, Robby's supposed to know who that is? But it is in fact, Robby's dad, so maybe he should know. </p><p>"I don't-" Robby says. It feels like admitting a personal failing, but he's used to feeling like that around his dad and Miguel. It's not like he ever really <em> wanted </em> to be the better son. Miguel's so damn good at it.</p><p>"My old teacher," Robby's dad says, grimly. "There's a reason I don't write him Christmas cards."</p><p>"Don't hurt yourself," Robby says. He doesn't want to like, rush to his dad. But he doesn't want to go that slowly, either. He compromises and kneels next to the couch. "Jesus. Who taught you, a truck?"</p><p>"My mom's at work," Miguel says. "But she said to just keep ice on him and give him some ibuprofen. So-" </p><p>Robby's dad waves his hand at Miguel. "I'm fine, Diaz." </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. "If you say so." It's been a bad week for Robby being able to look at his dad like he normally does - like he's the asshole who left Robby alone for sixteen years, who ruined his mom's life, who fucked up all Robby's birthdays. Right now Robby's dad just looks hurt. </p><p>"If you can rest, you should," Miguel tells Robby's dad, gently. "C'mon, Robby. I'll catch you up."</p><p>Robby's dad's eyelids flutter. He looks like he's about to protest so Robby catches his shoulder and pushes him back into the couch. "It's okay," Robby says. "I'm not going anywhere." </p><p>He doesn’t. He just sits there and listens to the sounds of Miguel in the kitchen. </p><p>Finally he says, “I’m right here,” and goes to see him.</p><p>Miguel is fucking around with the microwave and a can of soup, looks like he needs something to do with his hands. "Sensei Kreese was teaching at Cobra Kai for a while," he tells Robby. "He was more violent than Sensei Lawrence. He's the one who told them to do all that shit at Miyagi-do. But Sensei told him to leave, and he left. It was a while ago, before you -" <em> came here, came out, kissed me </em>. </p><p>"Right," Robby says. He wants to reach out, put his hand on Miguel's hip, be something for him. But Miguel's back is stiff and his shoulders are curling inward, so Robby keeps his hands to himself. "He came back?"</p><p>"He had some paperwork," Miguel says. "Sensei had a friend who was sick. He left for a while, and Sensei Kreese was in charge, and I guess while it was just him he did something with the filing and put Cobra Kai in his name, not Sensei's. But Sensei's friend had just died, so he didn't notice."</p><p>"You know so much about my dad," Robby says. He doesn't mean to say it like that. "That's not -"</p><p>Miguel sighs. "They got in a fight. Sensei was out of it already, I guess because of last night? But he wouldn't let me help him. He wouldn't let anyone help him. I could barely make him give me the keys."</p><p>"Fuck." Robby presses his knuckles into his eyes. "Thank you. For doing it."</p><p>"Yeah." Miguel shakes his head, and then the microwave dings. "Can you just - here. It's soup." </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He takes the bowl from Miguel and goes back to the couch.</p><p>His dad eats quietly. He’s almost never quiet. Not like that, anyway. </p><p>The evening stretches out long and tense. Robby's dad isn't in danger but he is out of it, and Miguel's mom comes over when her shift is done to sit and watch Iron Eagle II in low silence.</p><p>Eventually Robby's dad falls asleep, a real genuine rest, and Miguel brings out the blanket from his bed and says, "Do you want me to stay?" but he looks so tired Robby shakes his head, says, "I can handle it," and watches him leave.</p><p>Robby shuts the door behind Miguel and his mom. Now it's just Robby, and his dad, asleep. That feels normal. Like something Robby understands.</p><p>Robby is just so tired, the kind of tired that smacks into you like a heat wave, all at once and overwhelming. It feels like his teeth are tired. He's just scrolling on his phone for something to do with his hands. </p><p>
  <em> Did you know my dad is gay?  </em>
</p><p>He feels stupid immediately after he sends it. The feeling only gets worse as the seconds tick on. <em>What are you doing, Robby? Where's your fucking head? </em></p><p>"Robby?" he asks. That cool, easy voice. It's so fucked but it makes Robby feel - </p><p>Calm. Together. Like everything’s going to be okay. </p><p>“You’re good, Robby,” Luke says. “I’m here.” </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's raining when Robby wakes up. It's always loud here when it rains, not like at the LaRussos. It was louder at his mom's place, though. They had a really bad leak right over the couch where Robby slept. </p><p>"Hey." It's Miguel, wearing a t-shirt Robby left in his bedroom the last time Miguel's grandma was busy and they could make out in his room. They're pretty much the same size but Robby's broader through the chest, so clothes always look just a little different on Miguel. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says, stretching awake. Then he remembers. "Fuck-" </p><p>Robby's <em> dad</em>. </p><p>"It's okay," Miguel says. "He's fine, I just gave him some new ice and some painkillers. Thought I'd see if you wanted breakfast."</p><p>"You cook?" Robby gets out of bed, bare feet on the carpet. He smirks, a little, when Miguel's eyes drop; he sleeps in boxers, might as well flex a little. </p><p>"I know you have eggs," Miguel says, yanking his gaze back to Robby's face, "because I was there when Sensei bought them."</p><p>"Even I can cook eggs," Robby agrees. He stretches his arms above his head. He wants to kiss Miguel but he also wants - defense only. He wants Miguel to come to him. </p><p>"Are you offering?" </p><p>"Sure."</p><p>Miguel does come to him then. He's not that much taller than Robby but he can push the advantage when he wants, because that's what Robby's dad taught him. </p><p>Robby loves kissing him. It's funny because they started out hating each other, came to an unwilling truce and now they're here. They've never been neutral. Always supercharged. </p><p>Even when they're just sitting on the couch together Robby's heart picks up. </p><p>Miguel's hand curls around the back of Robby's neck, and his other hand settles on Robby's hip, thumbing down past the waistband of his boxers, just a little. It's like the way people kiss in an 80s movie. Big romantic music. Strings. </p><p>"Hey," Miguel says, breaking the kiss. "Brush your teeth."</p><p>Robby laughs. "Okay." But he doesn't move. Just steps forward so he can lean his face into Miguel's shoulder, the curve of his neck. "You smell good."</p><p>"Okay, vampire." Miguel is petting the nape of his neck, tiny little strokes with his thumb. "I gotta give your dad some pills. C'mon, let's go."</p><p>That does make Robby pull away. Just a little jolt, like a kick to the chest. "You don't trust me to take care of him?"</p><p>"It's not like that," Miguel says, but he won't meet Robby's eyes, which means it is like that. "It's not - I'm here anyway."</p><p>Robby says, "I was here with him all night." And then he says, "He's a grown man."</p><p>Miguel sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. "I know," he says. "I don't have to do this kind of thing for my mom, okay? So it makes it okay that I come here, and I do it for him. But you don't-"</p><p><em> Have anyone else, </em> Robby hears. <em> Because you're a pathetic loser with two pathetic parents. </em>Robby's not his dad but god he does wish, sometimes - </p><p>But it's Miguel. He trusts Miguel, like he trusts Sam and Mr LaRusso. Because Miguel hurt him but Miguel <em> came back, </em>like Mr LaRusso, and like Sam. </p><p>"Hey," Miguel says, softly. "I didn't mean it like that." </p><p>"I know," Robby says. "It's okay." </p><p>He lets Miguel come back again, kiss his forehead and wrap his arms around Robby, and that does feel better. It does. </p><p>It feels good enough that Robby lets Miguel hold onto him while they go down the hall into the living room.</p><p>Robby's dad is moving around, manoeuvring through the kitchen with his arm tucked against his chest. Miguel looks at Robby, just quickly, and then says, "Hey, Sensei, why don't you sit down?"</p><p>"You're not my mother," Robby's dad says, but he is gripping the counter hard, so when Robby goes to help him get to the table he doesn't fight him too hard. "Thanks."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Feeling better?" </p><p>"The only thing hurt's my pride," Robby's dad says. Robby's dad basically only has his pride so he looks pretty unhappy to be saying it. "Sorry you had to see me like that."</p><p>"C'mon," Robby says. "Like that's the worst." </p><p>Robby's dad laughs. "Yeah, okay."</p><p>Miguel is cracking eggs into the pan. "Everyone's getting scrambled, no complaints," he says. </p><p>"Okay with me," Robby says, sucking up a little. </p><p>Robby's dad waves his hand. "Whatever. Thanks, Diaz."</p><p>Miguel snorts under his breath and in no time the eggs are there, on plates, even, in front of them. </p><p>The eggs are eggs. You can’t fuck up eggs, and Miguel doesn’t.</p><p>"Hey," Robby says. "You never told me about that guy." He doesn't know very much about his dad. He knows some of the guys who were in Cobra Kai with him when he was a kid, because they're the only people his dad ever talks about. Bobby's okay, he sends Robby birthday presents. Usually they're 50 bucks in a card, but hey, that's better than no money and no card, which is what Robby's dad's traditional birthday gift is to him, so. </p><p>"Not really much to tell," Robby's dad says, picking at his eggs. "He was my teacher for six years, then he tried to kill me, so I figured, probably not that much to talk about anymore." </p><p>"To be fair," Robby says, "I think about killing you all the time."</p><p>Robby's dad cracks a smile. "Fair enough," he says. "That I earned." </p><p>Miguel's watching them like a cat with a ping-pong ball. "Sensei," he says, "what are you going to do about him? Sensei Kreese?" </p><p>"Just Kreese," Robby's dad says, firmly. "He hasn't earned anything from me or from you."</p><p>Miguel drinks his orange juice. "Okay." </p><p>Robby's dad makes a face, and then winces when the bruise distorts. "I don't know yet," he says. "I'm figuring it out. You'll be the first to know when I do." </p><p>That's to Miguel, not to Robby.</p><p>Robby stares into his eggs.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby and Tory have math together. They don't sit together, usually, but it's Aisha she usually sits with so Robby feels like it's not so bad for him to butt in. Aisha's suspicious but not like the rest of the Cobras. Robby probably shouldn't think of them like that, since he's dating two of them, but he does. </p><p>"Hey," he says. </p><p>"Swayze?" She cocks her head, appraising. </p><p>"You look like hell," he says. </p><p>"Same to you." </p><p>This is the thing that he doesn't really get. Sometimes, without Miguel, the tension doesn't feel like the good kind. It just feels like something might snap. </p><p>She does look like shit, though. Her t shirt is one of Miguel's and she's got ratty Nike shorts on underneath. Her hair's back in a messy ponytail, no makeup, bags under her eyes. </p><p>She says, "I heard shit got bad at Cobra Kai."</p><p>"Bad time for you to bail," Robby agrees. He didn't realize he was pissed off until he said it, but actually, yeah, she's supposed to be there. They both know that Miguel can handle shit, if he has to; Miguel's your man in a crisis. But Miguel shouldn't have to <em> get </em>into a crisis. That's what people like Tory and Robby are for. </p><p>Tory tenses up, like she's ready to go, but - "Yeah," she says. "That was my bad."</p><p>"Where were you?" Robby asks. </p><p>She bites her lip. "Me and Hawk had a thing. Cobra thing. It came out of nowhere." And then, softly, "He called you first." </p><p>"He knew where I was," Robby says. And then: "Tory?" </p><p>She takes a long breath, shoulders up. "I was busy. It's not like I could have done anything, anyway."</p><p>That's true. </p><p>And then - "Tor, are you okay?" </p><p>But that's when Aisha settles into the chair on Tory's other side and the whole mask goes down over Tory's face so Robby's shit out of luck. Fuck. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Aisha sits with Miyagi-do at lunch, which is not a normal Aisha thing to do, especially when the Cobras are all sitting together, whispering. Tory, sitting between Hawk and Miguel, catches Robby watching and elbows Miguel, and both of them wave. </p><p>Sam rests her head on Robby's shoulder, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so tired," she says. "Aisha, are you tired? I want to die."</p><p>Aisha laughs. "Well," she says, "I didn't leave my Shakespeare assignment until 2am, so I think I probably want to die less."</p><p>"That's so mean," Sam says. </p><p>Robby pets her hair gently. "Yeah," he says, "you should wash your hair."</p><p>"I hate you," Sam says blearily. "I hate all of you."</p><p>"Hey," Demetri squawks. "Who let you explain a metaphor for 45 minutes last night?"</p><p>"It was a good metaphor," Sam protests. "Maybe it was a 3am metaphor. But it was good at 3am." </p><p>Robby keeps petting Sam's hair, even though it is a little greasy. "Hey, Aisha," he says. "Is uh, what's going on over there-" He tilts his chin towards the Cobra tables. "Is that-"</p><p>Aisha shrugs, won't meet his eyes. "I don't know," she says. "I just - don't like it. It sucks."</p><p> </p><p>There's a loud sound, then, from the Cobras - Hawk's turned over the table, and he's storming out. Miguel's yelling after him - something Robby can't quite distinguish, but it's loud - and he looks pissed off, like, put your wall through a fist mad.</p><p>Robby and Aisha both get up. </p><p>Aisha puts her hand on his chest. "Hey," she says. "I'll deal with it."</p><p>Robby's getting real fucking sick of hearing that. But it's true: he's not Cobra Kai. He said he didn't want to be, and he meant it.</p><p>He sits back down. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's mom looks good. She's been in and out of this place a couple times but this time it's sticking. When she sees Robby her whole face lights up. </p><p>It's a nice place. Robby's dad is helping, which he didn't have to do, and Robby knows it pissed his mom off to take the money, but. These places are expensive.</p><p>Robby offered to pick up some more hours at LaRusso Auto, maybe the whole weekend, but his dad said fuck no, mouth a thin flat line. There are other things Robby could do, has done, but Robby's dad is high on the fantasy of being a dad for once in his life so Robby's letting him. </p><p>Robby comes once a week. He'd come more, but they told him it's not good for her to get too distracted. He felt guilty that it was a relief. </p><p>The visiting room's nice, big and full of light, with soft couches and a little table with coffee and tea. She's waiting for him by a window, the sunlight washing bright over her hair, and when she sees him she gets up and holds her arms out for him. </p><p>It's dumb but there isn't anything as good as a hug from Robby's mom. For sixteen years it was the two of them and somewhere in Robby that'll always be true. </p><p>"Hi, Mama," he says, into the sweep of her hair over her shoulder. </p><p>She kisses the top of his head. "Hi, baby. You look so good."</p><p>They sit down and she makes him coffee, black and sweet. </p><p>Robby's mom is careful, measured. She asks about his dad in even terms, about the LaRussos more genuinely. </p><p>It's not that Robby is <em> not </em> telling her. Robby's mom loves Robby so much, she wouldn't care. That Miguel's a guy and that Tory's a girl and that Robby's dating both of them at once. Robby's mom's definitely done crazier shit, in her time. So it's not that. </p><p>It's just - </p><p>She liked Luke. </p><p>She really liked Luke. </p><p>When shit started to get weird with Luke Robby would waver, and then he'd remember how much his mom liked Luke, and he'd stay. </p><p>And when Luke broke up with him for good, Robby felt really, really bad. Not just got dumped bad but like his mom would feel like he was letting her down, or something. </p><p>So. </p><p>They talk about how she's doing, her friends here. Robby's mom makes friends wherever she goes. She's charming, like Robby's dad can be. Robby always forgot his dad could do that, because he only ever saw him with Robby's mom, but. He can. </p><p>Robby misses her so much it's overwhelming. He has to curl his hands around his kneecaps and hold himself still. He wants to say, <em> Mom, I don’t know what I’m doing. Mom, I’m so scared all of this is going to fall apart. </em></p><p>But he can’t, because this is Robby’s mom. When Robby was nine he broke his arm and tried to hide it for a week because he didn’t want her to have to take him to the hospital. There are some things Robby just doesn’t get to have.</p><p>"Robby," Robby’s mom says, gently. "When I get out of here, for real - you're gonna need to stop protecting me. I'm your mom. I'm ready to do a better job of it."</p><p>"You're the best mom," Robby says. He means it. "Really."</p><p>She looks so sad. "Oh, baby," she says, and she's tearing up, a little. "I love you so much."</p><p>"I know," Robby says. "I love you too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>On Thursdays, Robby closes LaRusso Auto. It means he's there 5 until late, which his dad is kind of weird about, but it's only one night a week and also, fuck Robby's dad.</p><p>Robby likes work. It makes him feel stupid boring saying it like that, but he likes working with his hands and he likes working with Mr LaRusso and the guys. It's not like karate, which he's good at and works hard for. This is new stuff and it's not intuitive but he just needs to show up. He started out working hard here to piss off his dad but somehow it turned into just liking to work hard. </p><p>And he likes spending time with Mrs LaRusso. It always feels worse on a day he sees his mom - he loves his mom, she's <em> his mom</em>. But Mrs LaRusso is calm and kind and like, there isn't really anything Robby could say that would freak her out. He doesn't have to worry about protecting her.</p><p>(Except-</p><p>But that's over. Robby's dad said it was over, and more believably, Mr LaRusso said it was over.)</p><p>So Robby and Mrs LaRusso hang out and she asks Robby about his homework, and about Miguel and Tory, sometimes. When she asks about Miguel and Tory she doesn't sound like Robby's dad, like there's something she doesn't trust. She just sounds like when she asks Sam about any new boys, or Anthony if he has any new video games.</p><p>She knows he has his mom on Thursdays. It was her idea for him to come to work right after, since the flagship is in kind of the same area as Robby's mom's facility. Robby thinks part of it was so he wouldn't get in his head about his mom, which he doesn't need, but he kind of likes anyway. </p><p>Robby's not Mrs LaRusso's kid, not by a long shot, but it is nice that she thinks of him. </p><p>Robby <em> is </em>kind of worried about his dad. But he works on Thursdays and Robby's dad fucking hates when Robby does anything for him, so what was he gonna do? </p><p>He wishes he could tell Mrs LaRusso about that. She'd probably have some good advice for him. </p><p>But he can't, so he texts Miguel to remind him to check on Robby's dad and maybe to teach Robby's dad's beginner class if Robby's dad isn't up to it. </p><p>Miguel takes a while to text back but he says <em> on it, </em>sends Robby a picture of the kids in their mini gis. </p><p><em> Is everything okay? </em> Robby types out. Then he takes it back, letter by letter. Miguel would tell him if something was going on. <em> Miss you. </em> No, not that, either. <em> Cute, </em> he writes. <em> Don't let them beat you up too bad.  </em></p><p><em> Funny</em>, Miguel replies. <em> They should give you a netflix special.  </em></p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Robby's just wiping down the showroom as they head into the dead hours of the evening, getting into the pleasant rhythm of his own company. </p><p>Mrs LaRusso just left, told him there were leftovers in the fridge for him. It's nice that she thinks of him, even though she doesn't do it for anyone else and it kind of makes him feel like a kid. </p><p>There’s a person in the doorway.</p><p>Robby jerks his head up in surprise.</p><p>"Hey," Demetri says. He's wearing the same clothes he wore to school and he looks nervous as fuck. </p><p>"Oh, shit," Robby says. Bites his own tongue. </p><p>Demetri winces. "Did you forget?"</p><p>Robby did, but he brazens it out. "It's fine," he says. "I'm glad you remembered."</p><p>"I can go," Demetri says, waving one of his stupid long arms. "I can uh, go do my homework or something."</p><p>"No," Robby says. "C'mon, you can come look at these bonsais with me."</p><p>"<em>Bonsai </em> is the plural, actually," Demetri says. He catches himself and looks like he wants to swallow his own tongue.</p><p>"Okay," Robby says.</p><p>He doesn’t really know what to do with Demetri so they end up sitting with the bonsais - bonsai, Robby guesses. He trusts Demetri to be right about shit like plurals. </p><p>Demetri says, abruptly, "Sam says you need help with math." </p><p>That makes sense to Robby, too. It's hard to learn from someone who doesn't know how good you can be, and Demetri is good at math, not karate. </p><p>"Yeah," he says. "Quadratics." Partly he hates them, partly he's rusty, partly he doesn't care and cannot see where he's going to use them ever in his life.</p><p>"It's because you took a semester off," Demetri says, confidently. "Math is just about practice."</p><p>"Maybe I can drill quadratics while you practice kata," Robby offers. </p><p>"I don't think drills are going to work for me," Demetri says. "I think too much. Not that you don't think. I'm sure you have thoughts. I just think a lot, very fast, all the time."</p><p>Robby waits. "You done?" </p><p>Demetri nods. </p><p>"I agree," Robby says. "I was thinking we could spar. You can talk me through what I'm doing, why I'm kicking your ass, and then you can tell me what you should do so I don't. And then we'll try it again. Sound good?" </p><p>Demetri blinks. </p><p>Robby grins. "I'm not just a pretty face," he says. "I also have great abs."</p><p>Demetri squawks again. </p><p>It's more fun than Robby expected. He has to leave Demetri a couple of times to do chores, but when he comes back Demetri is practicing the movements of his own volition, without being told to drill. He offers Robby a smile that's so sweet Robby is overwhelmed. </p><p>He thinks, <em> okay, Sam. </em>Maybe he gets it now. </p><p>Demetri offers to show him how to do parabolas and he’s good at explaining it, good at showing Robby the things to make it muscle memory, second nature. Robby’s not like Demetri, he can do drills till the cows come home, but it’s nice to know exactly how to do it. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's late when Robby gets home, dark out and cool. He drove Demetri home because it felt like the right thing to do, and then he was already out so he went to the store, and now he's here.</p><p>Mr LaRusso's car is in the lot. Robby narrows his eyes when he sees it but hey, weird things happen sometimes. His dad's had a weird couple of days. </p><p>He unlocks the door. "Dad? I'm home. I got milk."</p><p>Mr LaRusso is sitting at the kitchen table, hands steepled, chin resting on top of them. Robby's dad is sitting across from him. They are very far apart. </p><p>Robby says, "Mr LaRusso?"</p><p>"Hey, Robby," Mr LaRusso says. </p><p>"Thanks for the milk," Robby's dad says. "Do you need any cash? I have -" </p><p>"I'm fine," Robby says. "Can I talk to you, Dad?" </p><p>Robby's dad doesn't flinch. "Yeah, all right. LaRusso, go outside." He pauses, while Mr LaRusso gears up to fluster. "Just kidding. C'mon, Robby."</p><p>They go down the hall to Robby’s dad’s bedroom, Robby leading, which feels weird, but okay.</p><p>They sit on the edge of Robby's dad's bed. It feels weird to be in here, because it's Robby's dad's room, you know? His territory. It's not like in Robby's mom's apartment, where the whole thing was so small it was both of theirs. This apartment is Robby's dad's, and Robby just happens to be here, too.</p><p>Robby's dad's bedroom is dark and messy. The moonlight comes in through the window, onto the piles of clothes and Robby's dad's face.</p><p>Robby's dad says, "Hey, buddy." He looks better than he did even this morning; he's resilient, Robby knows. He wears a hit well, just like Robby. When Robby was a kid his parents used to fight sometimes - his dad would never hit his mom, but she'd punch him sometimes, and then he'd grab her wrists and hold her against something until she kneed him and they started yelling at each other again. That sucked and still sucks, when he thinks about it, so. </p><p>The point is Robby knows his dad can take a hit. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. "Mr LaRusso?" He can't help thinking about the thing he wasn't supposed to see, the thing that's been eating him up inside even though it's supposed to be done, it's supposed to be over.</p><p>"He's just here to talk about paperwork," Robby's dad says, looking thoughtfully at Robby. "I'm sorry. I should have told you, huh?"</p><p>Robby shrugs. "You're both wearing pants," he says, as light as he can, "so we can call it business casual."</p><p>Robby's dad barks a little laugh. "Thanks," he says wryly. "I am sorry about that. Before. That it happened. I don't think I said that to you, but you're right. I shouldn't have put your situation in danger. I know it's been hard for you to get here, and you're doing so well." </p><p>Robby ducks his head. "Who are you and what did you do with my dad?"</p><p>There's that warm hand on his shoulder, his dad pulling him in for a hug. "I'm sorry, kid," he says. "I know I say it all the time."</p><p>It's nice to hear, Robby thinks. He doesn't want to say that. He says, "Thanks, Dad," into his dad's shoulder and from the way he hugs Robby a little tighter Robby knows he's been understood.</p><p>"It really is just dojo stuff," Robby's dad says, pulling back from Robby.  He did shave today; he rubs his hand along his jaw. "It's all a mess.  Your Sensei said he'd look at my paperwork for me, see if he can find any loopholes."</p><p>"That's nice of him," Robby says. It's true. Mr LaRusso is a nice guy.</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "And then we were just having a beer and talking about you. I know, I know. But you're right, he cares about you, and I care about you, and it's nice to talk to someone about that. He thinks you should do your math homework, too."</p><p>"Ugh," Robby says. "<em>Dad</em>."</p><p>Robby's dad reaches out to ruffle his hair. "Okay," he says. "You want some dinner? I could go for some of that lasagna." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "Sure."</p><p>Mr LaRusso has been waiting at the table; he looks nervous but not that nervous, and smiles when they sit back down.</p><p>Mr LaRusso says he's not hungry but he has a Coors while Robby and his dad eat. It's nice. Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso are bickering about kata, which Robby's dad thinks are a waste of time and energy and Mr LaRusso thinks are the pinnacle of the form.</p><p>"The form," Robby's dad says, rolling his eyes. "Do you listen to yourself talk or do you just jack off?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs. "I save that for thinking about the crane kick," he says. He looks at Robby, and at Robby's dad. </p><p>The air is tight. </p><p>Robby coughs. </p><p>Robby's dad shakes his head. Mr LaRusso frowns. "John, I should go." His voice is rough, like it almost never is when he's around Robby. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. He's staring at his hands, at the floor, anywhere but Mr LaRusso. "Probably."</p><p>Robby picks at his lasagna. "I'll walk you out, Mr LaRusso." He puts down his fork and waits while Mr LaRusso gets his coat, lets Mr LaRusso hold the door open for them when they go out.</p><p>The night is cool. Mr LaRusso says, "Robby-" He looks at Robby and there’s something in there, something enormous and sad that Robby is simply unequipped for; he doesn’t know how to deal with it, he can’t be expected to. </p><p>"I'm sorry about my dad," Robby says, softly. "Drive safe."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's Robby who makes the call, because Robby is fucking stupid. His dad’s asleep, tired out from all the painkillers and the Coors he washed them down with, and Miguel’s doing homework and Robby doesn’t really want to cross the hall, anyway, because the only thing in the world that’s happening is <em> this </em> and he can’t even begin to know how he’d spell it out for Miguel Diaz.</p><p>Luke says, "I missed your voice."</p><p>Robby wraps his arms around his knees and holds himself there. "Yeah?" </p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. "It's my favourite sound."</p><p>Robby closes his eyes. It's easy to be fourteen and special, wrapped up in that first what-if. He wants to be in Luke's bed, the first night that Luke said, <em> hey, stay, </em> and Robby trusted him enough to do it. "Do you remember," Robby says, "the first night? Not the party. The first time it was just you and me."</p><p>Luke laughs, soft, kind of sweet. "You were so mad at me, because of the chlamydia. So I took you to Nobu and you fell asleep in the car because you were so freaked out." He says it like it's no big deal. Just chlamydia; everyone gets it. That's what he told Robby then, too, and it was calming then, powerful. You lose your virginity at a party and you get an STI. Welcome to the world, kid.</p><p>Robby remembers: the chlamydia had sucked but not as much as before he knew what it was, when he was just terrified and alone. "It was good," he says. </p><p>When Luke was seventeen he was really tall. Still filling out, but with that shock of blond hair, that striking jaw. Robby had been a skinny, awkward kid. It had been exciting to be noticed, even when he was angry about it. </p><p>"Yeah," Luke's saying. "Remember, I had to talk you into the octopus? You thought I was trying to kill you, but you liked it."</p><p>Robby didn't really like it. The texture was weird, too chewy. And he'd seen a ton of YouTube about how smart octopuses were, like dogs.</p><p>What Robby had liked was the way Luke nodded, approving, when Robby said it was good. He'd bumped his knee against Robby's and Robby had felt warm and good inside, like he was worth noticing. </p><p>"You know I wasn't," Robby says, quietly. "You know it wasn't about the stuff, right?" </p><p>"I know," Luke says. "But you need someone who can take care of you, Robby. The money helped with that but it wasn't everything. It's not bad. You just need a lot."</p><p>Robby doesn't mean to shudder, but he does. He lets himself fall sideways so his head's on his pillow. It smells like Tory's shampoo. </p><p>"It's okay," Luke says. "I didn't mind. You were worth it."</p><p>There's a gaping wound at the heart of Robby. Most days he pretends it doesn't exist and sometimes he even believes it. Right now it's yawning, enormous, ready to swallow him whole. </p><p>"I miss you," Robby whispers. </p><p>"Sweetheart," Luke says. If they were in the same room Robby would be in his lap and Luke would be stroking his hair. "I know."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"I still think this is a bad idea," Sam says. She narrows her eyes at him. She put on eyeliner, though, so they look huge. And she straightened her hair, which she also never does. So it means she's nervous, which is what she always is around Tory even when she pretends she isn't. </p><p>"Okay," Robby says, reaching out to tuck her hair behind her ear. "But you owe me, so." Because of Demetri, but also because she always owes him, like he always owes her.</p><p>She makes a face. "Yeah, well." </p><p>They're in Sam's car, parked up at the canyon. Demetri is sitting in the back, all long spider arms, eyes going back and forth between Sam and Robby. The sounds of the party are filtering up - all the Cobras got here earlier, when the light was fading, but Robby and Miguel and Demetri were at Miyagi-do. Maybe they were finding things to do, maybe the fence actually needed to be painted. Who's to say? Not Robby.</p><p>Miguel's in Robby's phone saying, <em> hey, where are you? </em> </p><p>Robby's not a great texter. It's not weird that he hasn't texted back, but he probably should now so he taps out, <em> just got here. still need that beer? </em></p><p>Robby has a great fake. It's a holdover from another life, but it means they let him buy two cases of beer for the back of Sam's car. If Mr LaRusso finds out they'll be in trouble but Sam's driving and Robby learned his limits a long time ago, so it should be fine. </p><p>"Hey!" It's Miguel, knocking on the window by Robby's head. He's a little flushed, grinning his bright drunk smile. Robby's bummed he missed watching the slide from Miguel, funny and kind and sober, to loose and laughing, hands slipping on Tory's waist or Robby's. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says, opening the door. Miguel clatters into his lap, tucking his face into Robby's neck; Robby's a little sober but he catches up quick, curling his hands around Miguel's stomach. "You smell like beer."</p><p>"Hey, Sam," Miguel says. He cranes his neck up and over Robby's shoulder. "Demetri! Glad you could make it."</p><p>"Good to see you," Demetri says, waving hello. "Thanks for the invite."</p><p>Miguel grins, wide, like a sunbeam. "Yeah," he says. "Oh - Hawk brought a girl, so he probably won't be too fucking weird, but if he is just yell, me and Tory are around."</p><p>"Oh, so I'm allowed to kick his ass?" Robby teases, pressing a kiss to Miguel's hair, behind his ear. He can feel Miguel's stomach under his palms, lean and taut. </p><p>"No," Miguel says, swaying a little bit against Robby's chest. "You're allowed to call me, and I'll do it."</p><p>"Buzzkill," Robby says. It's nice to have Miguel right here. Close and warm and not pissed off. He's been tightly-wound since Robby's dad got hurt, and Robby gets it, but it's also not even close to the first or the last time Robby's dad is gonna get the shit kicked out of him, that's just who Johnny Lawrence is.</p><p>"No gang war at my party," Miguel says. "Okay? Okay."</p><p>"Fine," Robby says. "If you say so."</p><p>When he looks over Sam's eyes are bright and clear. She shrugs at him. "Into the belly of the beast?" she asks. </p><p>Demetri yelps very quietly.</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says, hooking his chin over Miguel's shoulder. "Let's do it."</p><p>Robby’s feet crunch across the dead leaves. He feels Sam next to him, narrows his eyes against the darkness that’s filled with the sound of Cobra Kai.</p><p>It does feel kind of dangerous, but there’s Tory, standing tall and bright in the dark.</p><p>Tory greets Robby with a kiss. She and Miguel are frosty, though, barely touching; he peels off as soon as Tory comes over to them, leaving his fingerprints on Robby's hip. Robby watches him go but he's too sober to know what to do, so he just stays put.</p><p>"Brought you beer," Robby says, brandishing his case. "You have a cooler, right?" </p><p>"Yeah," Tory says. "Twizzler, you wanna help?"</p><p>"It's Demetri, actually," Demetri says.</p><p>"Sure," Tory says. "C'mon."</p><p>Demetri looks at Sam like a baby deer. Robby is swept by a stupid urge to protect him; he doesn't think he was ever that vulnerable, not once in his life. Robby came out prepared to fight for himself. Demetri's just here. </p><p>Robby thinks Sam probably feels like that too, from the way she stands just a little in front of Demetri. Can't chalk it up just to Tory, and they're doing better now, anyway. They don't want to rip each others' throats out. </p><p>Demetri, though. Demetri's a soft belly and Tory is a shark. </p><p>So when Sam looks at Robby Robby nods: they're Miyagi-do, which means <em> defense</em>, which means <em> make sure nobody gets Demetri </em>. Not even Robby's girlfriend. She's mostly housetrained right now, but you honestly never know with Tory. Robby's sure she'd say the same thing about him. </p><p>They all help Tory unload the beer into the coolers and Aisha comes over to grab Sam and Demetri. Thank god for Aisha, because Robby needs to talk to Tory. What the fuck?</p><p>He doesn't have even a second with her, though, before she's pulling him over to the fireside, where the Cobras are all sitting. </p><p>Someone has some speakers going. The music's so loud it kicks Robby in the breastbone, a familiar fluttering butterfly kick that makes him pull heavy on the neck of his beer. </p><p>The mohawk kid is sitting with his arm around a girl. He looks up when Tory and Robby come into his line of sight, raising his beer in salute to Tory. </p><p>"Play nice," Tory says, slipping her hand in Robby's back pocket to make the point. Robby really fucking <em> likes </em> being with Tory; they have the same shorthand, everything is the same language for them. </p><p>He kisses her cheek - marking territory - feels Hawk's eyes boring hot into him while he does it, feels Tory laugh silently against him. "Thanks for the invite."</p><p>"Wasn't my idea," Hawk says, but not in a mean way, just matter of fact. "This is Beth." Robby's kicked his ass before and will do it again, and it's easy to size him up to make sure, but Hawk's running the same look up and down him. That's reassuring, too. Some things don't change.</p><p>The girl - Beth - waves. She's not as tall as Hawk is, but around the same height as Tory: a white girl, thin like a wire, with a mass of dark hair that waves around her face. Her eyeliner is pitch-black, smudged, like a girl in a music video from the 90s. Hawk's hand is on her thigh and she's leaning into his shoulder.</p><p><em> Oh, </em> Robby thinks. <em> Definitely have your number in my old phone. </em>He thinks he remembers the house. Not big, not in the best part of town, but she always had cash. Robby didn't blur the lines, didn't party with the customers. Sometimes Luke did, but that was him blurring the lines, not Robby, so when they were together it was Luke's responsibility, not Robby's. Luke was only in it for the networking, anyway.</p><p>She grins at him, a smooth smile, easy with recognition. "Robby, right?" </p><p>"Yeah," he says. He can feel Tory's thoughtful gaze, but they trust each other.  </p><p>Hawk looks at Robby and then at Beth. "You've met?"</p><p>"Not well," Beth says, smirking in dark lipstick. "We uh, worked together. A while back."</p><p>Robby laughs and goes around the fire to kiss her cheek. She smells like woodsmoke and something musky, expensive. "Nice to see you." </p><p>She's high. He doesn't know what - Luke used to quiz him about it, just for fun, before they'd go to parties, so Robby would know enough to not pick a fight with the wrong person on the wrong upper, but he's out of practice - but it doesn't really matter. He knows enough to drink his beer and smile at her the way you smile at people who bought your shit. </p><p>He and Tory sit down next to each other, his arm around her. </p><p>"They're a throuple," Hawk says, very loud, over the music. "With Miguel, he's over there." He points, to where Miguel is standing by the coolers with Aisha and Sam and Demetri. </p><p>Beth laughs. It's a deep, throaty laugh. "Tory always did live on the wild side."</p><p>Tory stiffens. He wouldn't feel it if he wasn't looking for it, but he was. </p><p>He kisses her cheek. "Yeah?" </p><p>She tips her head sideways onto his shoulder. "Thanks for coming, boyfriend."</p><p>"Anytime," he says. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's not really paying attention when it starts; he and Tory are making out by the fire, and he has the remaining 40% of his attention directed on Demetri and Sam, who are flirting by the speakers. Demetri's very tall so he has to bend in half to talk to Sam, his mouth against her ear, and she is leaning up on her toes with her hand on his shoulder. Nobody is yelling at Demetri and Sam hasn't yelled for backup so things are comfy, good - as good as you can get at a Cobra party but Robby falls asleep in a nest of them at least twice a week so he should probably stop bitching.</p><p>Tory's the one who hears it first, peeling away from him to narrow her eyes. She's in his lap, straddling him, but she settles her hand on the flat of his shoulder and cranes her neck. </p><p>"Tor?" </p><p>She doesn't reply, but he's turning, too, hands anchored on her hips, and -</p><p>"Whoa," Beth says. She's across the fire from them, pupils blown. "Is that assault?" </p><p>Miguel and Hawk are fighting. It's Cobra shit, fuck. Robby's seen Miguel and Tory spar, and he's watched his dad spar with Miguel, but he was only in Cobra Kai one time - for Hawk to almost break Miguel's nose - and after that it seemed like it was asking for trouble. But all of those times there was no real animosity; even when Robby's dad took Miguel down so fast Miguel had a huge bruise on his knee for a week, they both laughed it off.</p><p>This is not a laughing situation.</p><p>This is like when Hawk fucked up Robby's shoulder, and then Miguel kicked it; but also like when Hawk came after Demetri in the mall and Robby and Sam had to protect him. Like when Robby's dad forgets that he's a person and only wants to fuck everything up.</p><p>This is the thing Robby can't really get over, and the reason he hates being at Cobra Kai, and the reason he'll only fight Miguel and Tory when they're all buzzed and the stakes are explicitly low: all of Robby's dad's students move like Robby's dad, and when Robby was a kid he only ever saw his dad when he was moving like <em>that</em>. It makes him think of his mom breaking plates and his dad punching walls and Robby screwing his eyes shut, wanting to be anywhere else.</p><p>There's a loose circle around them, Sam stepping a little in front of Demetri, all the Cobras keeping the perimeter, leaving Miguel and Hawk enough space to duck and weave around each other. Miguel's mouth is a mean snarl; Hawk's coming at him, turbo charged, unstoppable, like a train off its rails. Miguel trips him and they go down; <em> strike first, strike hard, no mercy </em> playing in Robby's head in his dad's low mean voice.</p><p>"What the <em> fuck</em>," Tory yells. It's like the world stops. Everything is just Tory, standing there, with her fists at her sides and her eyes gleaming and flat. Robby would follow her into a war, probably, if she said it like that.</p><p>Miguel freezes. Hawk gets a knee into his kidney but then Tory's tangling her hand in the neck of his shirt and Robby can get in, hook his arms under Miguel's armpits and pull him out. </p><p>"What the hell, man," Robby says.</p><p>Miguel's nose is bleeding. "Fuck," he says, wiping it with the back of his hand. He lets Robby pull him, though; as amped as he was, as violent, he let Robby move him. That's something. "Fuck you, man, what the hell!" </p><p>Hawk yells something back but Tory's towing him by his wrist into the woods, and they're gone.</p><p>"Diaz," Robby says, but Miguel shakes himself free, throwing himself into the crowd of Cobra Kai, without looking back. </p><p>Beth comes over, eyelids glittering, eyes bright. "Shit," she says. "Robby, you want-" </p><p>"Yeah," he says. She used to have more softness to her face, he thinks. She used to smile. "Sure, thanks." </p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby sits with Demetri and Sam, because it seems like the correct thing to do. Nobody else will talk to them, because they are all at a fucking karate school gang war. Robby's fucking dad fucking would, is what Robby has to say about that.</p><p>Aisha breaks away from Miguel and the rest. "Sorry," she says, and she does sound like she means it. "It's just so complicated, right now, because of both of the Senseis." </p><p>Sam looks at her thoughtfully. "This was supposed to be a truce."</p><p>The pill is kicking in, a good easy haze. Robby can feel the ground underneath his feet, like it's humming through the soles of his shoes. </p><p>He looks at Beth and she grins at him. He thinks, maybe they made out once? He remembers the low sound of Luke's laugh, the way he had his hand on Robby's shoulder, after. He made out with a lot of people when Luke was watching, it's not exactly a foreign concept.</p><p>Aisha's talking to Sam, a little reserved but not that reserved, because it's still Aisha. "We thought everyone would cool down if we weren't in the dojo, if we weren't talking about it. It's all been so fucked up, but we're all friends. But it's still bad."</p><p>"And you solve your problems fighting," Sam says, archly. Robby loves Sam but <em> god </em>, she's like Mr LaRusso, sometimes they can't just let something lie. "Sorry."</p><p>Aisha shrugs. "You're right, I guess. Still sucks." </p><p>Demetri is huddled up next to Sam, long limbs folded over themselves. "I miss when we just played League of Legends," he says. "Less blood, back then."</p><p>Robby knows where Miguel is - getting even drunker in the middle of a tangle of Cobras - but not Tory. Fortunately, Tory's mind follows the same railway tracks that Robby's does. It's easy to get up and start walking, and even easier to be unsurprised to see her, sitting on a fallen tree at the edge of the woods.</p><p>There's a blunt dangling between her fingers. He rolled it for her, a few days ago, packed her six and said <em> don't get used to this</em>, and she laughed and kissed him. There's a flannel slipping around her shoulders, cuffs baggy around her wrists; he recognizes it from Miguel's closet. </p><p>"Where's Hawk?" </p><p>"Ask Hawk." She doesn't look up, but she doesn't tell him to fuck off, either.</p><p>"That's okay," Robby says, sliding onto the tree, next to her."I didn't want to see him, anyway." </p><p>"I just," Tory says. Her face is pale in the low light, eyelashes dark. "I lo - I like Miguel, you know? I do. But he's always so fucking sure he's right."</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Hawk's my friend," Tory says. "I know, you don't - that's fine. But he was the first one to have my back. It's hard." </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. Their knees are touching but he doesn't reach for her. There's good cool air out here, and he can feel the rhythm of her breath in his chest. "He's in for Kreese?"</p><p>"Yeah." She shakes her head. "We missed it when Sensei - Kreese - came back. Beth's from my old school. That's where we were."</p><p>"You could have called me." He shouldn't have his feelings hurt about this but it's Tory and Robby. That's supposed to be something. Because Tory and Miguel are snakes and Robby and Miguel are Johnny Lawrence's so there has to be something equally itself for Robby and Tory. </p><p>"You were busy," she says. "And I- you know how he is."</p><p>Robby does. It took a black eye and a bruised rib for Robby to ask Miguel for help, and even that was not quite <em> help. </em> Miguel's a good person. Bringing him into the mess that is Robby's life before didn't feel like the right thing to do. Tory doesn't talk about her life, before, but they're alike enough that Robby can fill in the gaps.</p><p>"So Hawk went with you." He keeps his voice even, careful. They don't spook each other but it's worth making the effort.</p><p>"She was in trouble," Tory says. She bites her lip and turns to him, eyes bright and clear. "And then it turned out Miguel was in trouble, and I missed it."</p><p>"You guys, when you fight, that's how you work things out. Right?"</p><p>"Not like this," Tory says, firm, flat. "Not like it matters. I know you don't get it, Robby, it's fine, but your dad, Sensei - we know how much to hit and how much to pull back. And Hawk's - he hasn't been holding back. And that means Miguel won't either."</p><p>Robby breathes out. "It's not going to get better."</p><p>"Not until someone wins," Tory says. "I just - if Miguel would have <em> listened </em> maybe we could have done something, but he just hates Kreese so much."</p><p>"He sounds like a piece of work," Robby says.</p><p>"I don't <em> know</em>," Tory says, voice slipping into shrillness. "Miguel hates him so much, and Hawk thinks without him it's going to get bad, and I- It was really bad before. For them. And for me, too, I guess. So-"</p><p>There's a soft sound behind them, the noise of feet crunching along the ground.</p><p>Robby turns, Tory with him. When he moves she moves, too. They don't spar together that much. It's not like him and Sam, the kind of alignment they worked hard for, but he thinks it would be interesting if they ever had to, because they really do understand one another.</p><p>Beth says, "Tory?"</p><p>Tory's whole body shifts, rolling through fear to anger to wary stillness.</p><p>"You should have told me that you were in trouble, too," Beth says. She's wearing a black dress that ends near the top of her thighs; chilly for winter, even in California. She tilts her head, the line of her neck endless, the white of her teeth bright. </p><p>"What would you have done about it?" Tory asks, mean and sharp. Robby knows her like he knows himself; he picks out the fear in the undertone, the recognition. </p><p>"I don't know," Beth says, coming closer. She's beautiful, but a wild kind of beautiful. Robby's known girls like this his whole life, because this is the kind of girl his mom is. "I'd have known, at least." She reaches out for Tory and Tory doesn't move away, doesn't flinch, just lets Beth do it. "Hey. I'm sorry." </p><p>"You're not," Tory says. She doesn't look away from Beth, though. "You - what did you say to him?"</p><p>"Are you mad because I kissed your friend?" Beth asks, gentle, disbelieving. "Tor, c'mon. You never used to mind." </p><p>"I mind that you kissed my friend and then he tried to break my boyfriend's teeth," Tory says. "That never happened before."</p><p>"It's okay," Beth says. "That's what the spare is for." She drapes her hand over Robby's shoulder, leans in to kiss his cheek. "No offense." Her nails are long and dark, blood-red.</p><p>"Sure," Robby says. </p><p>She grins at him, sharp again, the blade of a knife. "Tor, I'm gonna go. I just wanted to say goodnight."</p><p>"Beth-" The way Tory looks, that's a familiar kind of raw-edged yearning. The way you look when you'd walk on broken glass for someone, and they don't know you exist.</p><p>"It's fine," Beth says. "You know, I have people to see, places to be. You don't have to walk me out."</p><p>Robby can feel Tory not moving next to him, holding back all that energy. He knows, because he knows her, that she is forcing herself to stay still, that it's like anchoring a tree in a hurricane to keep her rooted with him. He knows Tory, so he settles his hand over her thigh and she lets him do it, doesn't look at him but doesn't pull away. </p><p>She breathes out, leans into his shoulder. "Thanks."</p><p>"Of course," he says. He kisses her hair. "You smell good."</p><p>"I smell like weed," she says. "But thanks, babe."</p><p>But then-</p><p>Miguel emerges from the dark, a slender figure in a red hoodie. It has a snake on the back, and his hair is filthy from rolling around in the dirt with Hawk, and Robby wants to be with him <em> so </em>much, it's fucking stupid, it's astounding. It makes him feel fourteen and vulnerable, and that makes him want to step on the feeling very, very, hard.</p><p>He can feel Tory's breath on his neck. He wonders if she is feeling the same way.</p><p>Miguel says, "I'm sorry." He comes close to them, but he's still standing and he's still too far for Robby to reach out and touch him, not that Robby would. This is Tory's thing. He's just here.</p><p>Tory wraps her arms around herself. "You're not," she says.</p><p>Miguel swallows. "It's Sensei," he says, helpless. "You know? It's Sensei. I wouldn't be anywhere without him. And Hawk just wants to let this guy walk in and take over? Fuck that. He's bad fucking news."</p><p>"Have you even listened to him?" Tory asks. "He told me what it was like, before. That they sprained your ribs, that they just left you there, that they used to treat him like shit. You just want to forget about that?"</p><p>"You want to start a <em> war </em> ?" Miguel asks. "What the fuck, Tory? There isn't anyone to <em> fight. </em>"</p><p>And then Miguel looks at Robby and Robby thinks, <em> oh</em>. They're snakes but they move like a pack, and a pack has a leader and that leader must, above all things, be loyal.</p><p>"I don't help," Robby says, softly. "Because I'm Miyagi-do, and that's a compromise."</p><p>Miguel's face shows it. He's not a good liar, even though Tory keeps her face straight; Miguel's biting his lip and his eyes won't meet Robby's. "Robby-" </p><p>Robby's stomach is flat like a puddle of spilled Coors left on the carpet in the sun. He pulls his hand back, away from Tory's knee, but Tory's faster, fingers closed around his, holding him there.</p><p>"It's not that," Tory says firmly. "That's the excuse but it's not." </p><p>"Oh, it's philosophical?" Robby snipes. </p><p>"I know you don't get it. But you <em> should. </em>" Miguel sighs. "Forget I said that."</p><p>"But you meant it," Robby says. <em> Because I'm fucked up, just like my dad. Because I should be able to just fucking lose it. </em> It's always there, an undercurrent, Robby in his house of snakes. <em> One day you'll be ours. </em></p><p>"Maybe you shouldn't be such a bitch about it," Tory says, quietly. "You're dating two cobras, Robby, that doesn't mean nothing about you." </p><p>Robby shakes his head. "Whatever," he says. "I think you should just go fucking fight him, Miguel, that's what your Sensei's always saying. Or, no, wait, didn't he get his ass kicked?"</p><p>Miguel's mouth firms into a mean, drunk line. "Maybe if you'd actually listen when your dad says shit, instead of just being mad at him, you'd know what was going on."</p><p>Robby does get up, then. "Fine," he says. "If I'm such a fucking liability, you can do this without me."</p><p>Miguel reaches for him. "Robby-" </p><p>Robby's heart is beating so fucking loud. If Miguel touches him he might be a snake, after all. Might strike first, hard, without mercy.</p><p>Miguel sees it, maybe. Drops his own hand to his side. </p><p>Nobody has to make the call, because Hawk does it for them. He looks smaller, now, and tired, but the stupid crest of hair remains unmoved. He mantles his shoulders against the night and stares out at them.</p><p>"Diaz," he says, eyes bright. "Time to settle this."</p><p>Miguel nods. He turns away from Robby and Tory. "Dojo rules, loser drops it."</p><p>Hawk spits on his palm, and Miguel spits on his, and they shake.</p><p>Robby's <em> fucking </em>dad.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk and Miguel are circling each other. The air is different, less feral, more controlled. A competition, not the first battle of a war.</p><p>Demetri is holding Sam's hand. Or Sam is holding Demetri's hand. Or, they are standing with each other. It's nice, Robby thinks; she looks good with someone to protect.</p><p>Demetri was Cobra Kai, for a little. It's only Sam who doesn't belong here at all. But she doesn't seem like that; she's comfortable as any of them. Maybe it's just Robby who wants to melt away.</p><p>Tory is on the other side. She's a Cobra; she's the one waiting to be swayed. </p><p>Robby doesn't know what they are. The ones waiting to leave? Maybe.</p><p>He watches every moment of it, because it's Miguel, and Miguel would do it for him. But he feels sick, hollow in his stomach, in his bones. </p><p>They don't do this at Miyagi-do. There's a world where Robby is capable of this and it's <em> close </em>, that's what makes it so awful, that's what makes it sour against his teeth. He didn't think he hated it but now, he knows, he does. Every time Miguel presses his advantage, lets the anger carry him forward - it's a world away from the Miguel who kisses him and tosses him to the floor with his hand under Robby's head. A world closer to the Miguel who left him with a shoulder that still aches when it rains. </p><p>Hawk is worse, though. Hawk is always worse. Robby didn't know him before he met Robby's dad, to know the Eli Demetri's always talking about, but he knows what kind of person <em> Hawk </em> ended up being, and it's someone who can't stop, who won't stop until the blood's on the floor, all over it. Robby knows who that is because Robby knows his father. </p><p>Miguel knocks Hawk flat on the dirt, kneels over his chest. It feels like something Biblical, like something that matters. "Enough?"</p><p>Hawk squints up at him. Spits blood to the side, into the dirt. "For now."</p><p>And then Tory is there, wrapping her arms around Miguel, and they are kissing. Usually Robby likes watching them kiss. </p><p> </p><p>Sam says, "Hey." He forgets that she knows him, that they spent months with only each other's heartbeat to follow. "Let's get out of here."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"You beat the shit out of him," Robby says. "Did he deserve it?" </p><p>Kreese sits, legs splayed wide. His hair is a mass of wiry grey curl. Robby's mind doesn't have to stretch to imagine the younger, stronger version - a black cloud of a man. "That's what you think of your father?"</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content notes: non-graphic references to revenge porn against a minor (tory), references to underage relationships w abusive dynamics, on-screen john kreese</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robby wakes up alone. Sam said, <em> you can stay over if you want, </em> but he couldn't. He couldn't get past the way she and Demetri looked at him, like someone to be careful with, someone who needed something.</p><p>He isn't that. He isn't a snake, but he isn't that, either.</p><p>He likes waking up in his room, anyway. Even when he's hungover everything feels lush and green, like being in a jungle. Robby's dad's apartment sucks but Robby's dad doesn't care about the deposit, which means there's more he can put in the walls than anywhere Robby's ever lived.</p><p>It was nice of Robby's dad to put up the shelves for the bonsai. They look nice. They get good light, and he can reach all the angles when he needs to trim them.</p><p>He likes having the trees around. They remind him of the kata and the forest, that everything in the world was and will return to the earth.</p><p>And he likes that his dad did the shelves. It was just a couple hours on a Sunday and Robby would lie if his dad asked, but it was cool of him to do it.</p><p>It's not like he can't sleep without them, or something stupid like that. It's just that he got used to starting his Saturdays with Tory's hair in his mouth and Miguel complaining that he was being pushed out of Robby's tiny twin bed. So now it feels weird to be alone, like the room is too big for him, echoing.</p><p>He shakes his head and takes himself out the door, into the living room.</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. He's drinking coffee from a gas station cup. It's not a beer, which is a good sign.</p><p>"You gotta fix your dojo," Robby says, by way of good morning. "You can't sit around here doing nothing all day. You have like forty feral children." They're almost out of cinnamon toast crunch, which Robby's dad says he hates but is definitely eating when Robby's out. </p><p>Robby's dad sighs, which is a concession, from him. "I just don't know where all his money's coming from. Kreese. That's what I was hoping Daniel would know."</p><p>The <em> Daniel </em>makes Robby flinch, but if neither of them mention it it won't be an issue. "He didn't?" </p><p>He opens the fridge. There's four trays of leftovers, beer, orange juice, and milk. Thank you, past Robby.</p><p>He sits down with his cereal, like it’s just a normal Saturday morning with his dad. Usually Tory is here, in a stolen t-shirt, heckling Robby's dad over the fried breakfast meat of the morning. Usually Miguel is lying on the couch, pretending he slept there all night.</p><p>"He said his lawyer would check on it for me." Robby's dad sighs again. "So I'm gonna have to pay for that, too."</p><p>"That sucks," Robby says. He hesitates, but it feels like he should say it, so. "Look, I have some money from work-"</p><p>"Robby, no. You're my kid, and you're a kid. If I have to get a day job, I'll get one." Robby's dad frowns. "What happened last night, anyway? Usually there's more of you over here."</p><p>"I don't want to talk about it," Robby says.  He doesn't know how not to snarl at his dad but it feels shitty to do it now.</p><p>Robby's dad sips his coffee and just looks at Robby. Mr LaRusso's good at that, the long wait. Robby's dad not so much.</p><p>But he's getting better at it.</p><p>Robby takes a bite of cereal, chews, swallows. "Do you think I'd be better at Cobra Kai?"</p><p>Robby's dad blinks. "Of course," he says, "I'd love it if you'd come. But I don't know. I think Daniel's karate's been working for you. Even if I think it's pussy shit, you can kick Miguel all over the parking lot, so who am I to talk?"</p><p>It's still Robby's dad, but it's also, at least a little, what he wanted to hear.</p><p>Robby's dad looks at him thoughtfully. "Someone been saying shit to you? Was it Hawk?"</p><p>"No," Robby says. "I was just thinking about it." It's not that Miguel has ever <em> said </em>it. Even at the edge of himself, he wouldn't say it out loud.</p><p>"Well," Robby's dad says. "You know where to find me."</p><p>Robby laughs. "You know where to find <em>me." </em>Robby's cereal crunches between his teeth. It really is much better with milk.</p><p>"That wouldn't freak you out?" Robby's dad puts his cup down. It lands with a little paper thud.</p><p>"You think you could keep your pants on?" Robby isn't quite sure it's the right joke to make, but it's right there. Robby's dad in Miyagi-do, storming in like a raincloud into bright blue skies. </p><p>Robby's dad bares his teeth, a soundless laugh. "All right," he says. "We won't do that."</p><p>They're quiet for a little while, Robby stirring through his cereal and Robby's dad staring at him in that creepy way he does, ever since Robby came to live with him; like everything Robby does is worth cataloging, remembering, locking away somewhere secret in that busted old head of his.</p><p>Robby sighs. "It's getting fucked up in there, Dad."</p><p>Robby's dad's head jerks up. Robby really doesn't use the word much, only when it matters. "I know."</p><p>"Miguel's tough," Robby says, "but there's only so much he can handle on his own. You taught them all to strike first, they're gonna hit <em> him </em>."</p><p>"Jesus. Is that what happened?"</p><p>Robby shrugs. "I don't know. I was busy being collateral."</p><p>"<em>Robby.</em>" </p><p>Robby's phone rings. It's good timing, because Robby doesn't even begin to know what else there is to say. Just: <em> please fix this</em>, to a man who's never fixed a thing in Robby's life. (Well, he fixed the sink a couple times. That counts.) He doesn't check the screen, just gets to his feet. </p><p>"Hey, Robby." It's a woman's voice, low and a little raspy. </p><p><em> " </em>Uh, who is this?"</p><p>"It's Beth," she says, laughing, and the face snaps into picture with the name: a fox in the shape of a girl. "I was just wondering if you'd be around tonight. I'll text you the address."</p><p>"Look," he says, "if Tory doesn't want to see you, that's a Tory thing, I think."</p><p>"It's not about Tory," Beth says. "It's more about you."</p><p>Robby's stomach turns. He knows who Beth is and that means Beth knows who Robby is, and that is a complication to add to all the rest, something Robby truly and entirely does not need. "Fine." </p><p>"Great," Beth says. "Kiss Tor for me, will you?" </p><p>"Sure," Robby says, and hangs up, drops his phone on the table. "I gotta go to work," he says, to his dad.</p><p>Robby's dad looks like he's concentrating very hard, like he's been chewing on the thought for a while. Too long. "It was always going to get weird. Three people- I know you're all the future. But."</p><p>Normally Robby would say,<em> fuck you, who the hell are you to give me advice, you didn't even make it to a divorce.  </em></p><p>Robby says, "Okay," and puts his bowl in the sink. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>At work Mr LaRusso takes Robby out for lunch, which happens sometimes and is usually nice. Luke liked - likes? - Japanese food, too, so Robby is familiar with it, and it's nice to hang out with Mr LaRusso outside of the dojo, just the two of them. Robby was scared when he moved out that Mr LaRusso would take it personally, that he'd stop caring about Robby the way he does, but he hasn't. </p><p>They are in a little booth, having sushi. Robby always orders extra wasabi and then doesn't eat it. Mr LaRusso never asks, but he watches Robby scrape it off his sashimi. </p><p>"So," he says. "How are things going?" </p><p>Mr and Mrs LaRusso like to check in with Robby, because he's living with his dad, and his dad sucks. (He doesn't suck that bad. He's just not a very good dad. Mr LaRusso had to buy them a vacuum cleaner, and Robby's dad checked it for a hidden camera three times before he accepted that it was just a vacuum cleaner. Robby doesn't think either of them have ever used it.)</p><p>It's felt weird since, you know. The thing. Because now Robby knows that Mr LaRusso has been spending time with Robby's dad. Or, not spending time with. </p><p>He knew they were talking, obviously. Because Robby moved back in with his dad, and there are only two karate schools in the area, and Robby's dad used to talk about the LaRusso kid when he was talking about his glory days in Valley karate, used to say his name in this far-off voice, like he wanted to reach into the past and drag him out. </p><p>"They're okay," Robby says. "Demetri's been helping me with calc."</p><p>"Oh, yeah?" Mr LaRusso likes Demetri. He started out faking it but it became genuine pretty quick. Probably faster than he thought it would. "Getting any easier?" </p><p>"Not really," Robby admits. He's still a little hungover; the nausea's pulling at his stomach. And he hasn't looked at his phone since he got to work. And he's not going to. Taking a page out of his dad's book.</p><p>"And how's your mom?" </p><p>"Good," Robby says. He picks at his ginger, peeling the thin slices apart. "I mean - better."</p><p>Mr LaRusso nods, looking at him. "That's good to hear."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He hopes it lasts this time, but he's used to having those hopes dashed. He won't say that, though. It makes Mr LaRusso sad. </p><p>"Do you - your dad's still feeding you, right? We'll order something else for you to take home."</p><p>Robby thinks: <em> you broke up with him. You don't need to keep pretending.  </em></p><p>It still doesn't make sense to him. Mr LaRusso is kind and successful and Robby's dad is an asshole who would eat out of a dumpster without Miguel. Mr LaRusso is funny in a dad way and he loves Sam and Anthony so much it sometimes makes Robby want to look away, because it's too much for him to be looking at.</p><p>And Robby's dad is Robby's dad. Robby's dad drinks too much, all the time, and he thinks about Mr LaRusso more than is healthy, and - </p><p>And Mr LaRusso thinks about Robby's dad, too. All the time. A terrifying amount. </p><p>Is that all it takes? </p><p>When Robby first came to live with his dad, Mr and Mrs LaRusso were really worried about him. Part of that was Robby's fault, because he didn't want to talk to any of them about it, because Luke was - there. And Luke had always hated when Robby had anyone else, so he just. Dug his claws in to fuck that shit up.</p><p>It had happened before. More than once, more than a few times. Enough that Robby had known how it would go from the second Luke sat down for dinner with Robby and the LaRussos; he could see the car crash moving in slow motion with the 80s power ballad layered over the top of it.</p><p>So Robby left and went to live with his dad, which was bad news but at least bad news that wouldn't break his heart. And Mr LaRusso - and Sam, and Mrs LaRusso, and even Anthony - all of them kept coming for Robby. They wouldn't let him leave. </p><p>But the part that sticks now is Mr LaRusso. The way he went to Robby's dad, quietly, all the time. Robby's dad didn't tell Robby about it, but the apartment is small and the walls are thin; Robby heard him yell at Mr LaRusso over and over, heard the yelling soften into conversation, into <em> I love him, too. Whatever I can do for him, I will. </em></p><p>And now it's not that. Now it's more than that.</p><p>Was it always that? Robby can't comprehend it. </p><p>Mr LaRusso <em> loves </em> Mrs LaRusso. That matters. That has to matter. </p><p>He hasn't been different. Robby has no idea when - whatever it was - started. That's scary, too, because Robby didn't know that Mr LaRusso was a good liar. </p><p>"Robby?" </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "Miguel has that leftover schedule, so there's always food. Sam brought a Greek salad over, too, did you make that? It was great."</p><p>"Good," Mr LaRusso says. "And this thing, with your dad-" </p><p>Robby eats a piece of ginger. "I don't think it's going great," he says. "I know that's a downer."</p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs. "You never met this guy, right? John Kreese." </p><p>Robby says, "My dad says he sucks. And my dad isn't exactly - he sucks a lot, so. If he says someone's a piece of work he's probably right."</p><p>Mr LaRusso hums thoughtfully. "Well," he says. "That's a step forward. He used to say he was a good man."</p><p>"Huh," Robby says. "Well, Miguel would probably know more about that than me." </p><p>Mr LaRusso looks sad. He has such like, big round eyes. When he gets upset he looks cartoon devastated. "I know your dad and I have our problems," he says, understatement of the past thirty-five years, "but he loves you."</p><p>"People keep saying," Robby says. But that's habit, not real bitterness. Lately he's gotten soft. Maybe that's why he can't stomach all that snake shit. </p><p>"This guy," Mr LaRusso says, quietly. "This guy was bad news. It's not just your dad who'll be better off when he's gone." </p><p>Robby sighs. "Did you know him?"</p><p>"When I met your dad he was pretty much enchanted by him, I guess. It was scary, like a cult or something."</p><p>Robby thinks about his dad, about the way he said Mr LaRusso showed him there was a world outside the one he was in. "What was my dad like, back then?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs, as if he can't help it. "Oh, hot shit," he says. "Homecoming king. He made my life hell." </p><p><em> But thirty-five years later, you wanted to leave your wife for him. </em> "Sounds like my dad."</p><p>"The more I think about it," Mr LaRusso says, "the more I think about how bad his teacher was. The more I get to know him, and you - your dad's a good person, Robby. He's turning it around. So to get him all messed up, like that - " </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "I know."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Beth's place isn't the one he remembers, but that's not saying much. It's an apartment, but in Tarzana, so it's okay as far as complexes go. Better than Robby's dad's for sure. Robby goes straight from work, but he keeps spare jeans in the trunk of his car so at least he doesn't look like a total loser. He just didn't want to go home; Miguel lives right across the courtyard. There's always someone ready to talk to him. He likes it most of the time. Just not right now. </p><p>Beth kisses his cheek when she lets him in, wearing the same dress as yesterday. Maybe the makeup's the same, maybe she just layered more over the top of it. </p><p>It's early, only nine. Nobody else is here, just Robby and Beth. It's a nice apartment. Marble countertops in the kitchen, big long couches. </p><p>He follows her out onto the balcony. It's a nice balcony, too. The view is of the courtyard, which has a fountain and several beautifully maintained trees. </p><p>She doesn't look back at him; her confidence doesn't waver. He wonders if they kissed. It's bothering him that he can't remember, but then again there are a lot of things that all blurred together, from that time in Robby's life.</p><p>She sits down on the concrete, so he sits down beside her. Her feet are bare, but her toenails are bright blue.</p><p>She looks at him with those cool, dark eyes. Tory looks at him like that sometimes, when she isn't quite sure what he's going to do. Maybe that's how he looks, when he doesn't know what she's going to do. </p><p>"Your ex is around this weekend," Beth says. "That's what I wanted to tell you."</p><p>"You couldn't text?" It sucks to think about. Luke in the city, Luke in Robby's phone. They don't run in the same circles, because Robby took himself out of them. They won't run into each other at the beach, or the store, or any of the dojos. </p><p>Still - it ripples inside him, like that snake that eats itself. Luke, here. His timing's always been impeccable, the worst anyone could ever ask for. </p><p>"Well, I wanted to talk to you. About her." She pulls out a lighter, cupping her palm around the fragile flame, and a cigarette from somewhere inside her dress.</p><p>"I don't want to be rude," Robby says, "but I'm on her side, not yours. Whatever happened." Sure, he and Tory have not texted each other. They'll talk to each other tomorrow, and then it will be okay. He is sure of this, like he's sure of few things in the world.</p><p>Beth looks down her nose at him. All her features are sharp, like a falcon. "She was helping me with something," she says. "And then she stopped, because of this karate school power drama shit."</p><p>"She's a busy person." He takes the cigarette when she offers it. He doesn't smoke much anymore, but it feels like a good time to do it. </p><p>"The thing she was helping me with wasn't just about me," Beth says. "I maybe might have implied that it was, but I don't think it would be good for her, if she kept ducking my calls."</p><p>Robby's hackles were already up but they're really up now. "I'll pass on the message."</p><p>"You're not curious?" </p><p>"If I am, I'll talk to my girlfriend."</p><p>Beth is really looking at him, now. Vulpine is the word for foxlike, Robby pays attention in English. "He's looking for you," she says. "That's what I thought you should know. I wanted to see - whatever. I just thought you should know." </p><p>Robby sighs. "Okay," he says. "What do you need help with?" </p><p>"Can you just," she says, quietly. "Stay for one drink? Just one. Please." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "But I'm driving home."</p><p>"Deal," she says. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's instinct, nothing else, that drives Robby out of his way home, to the mini mall. The stupid snake glares from the front awning. </p><p>He tells himself he's just going to get some chips, maybe a freezer pizza. Something to soak up his dad's beer. Maybe some orange juice, to replace the beer. </p><p>There's a man outside, smoking a cigar. He's wearing a long, dark coat. </p><p>Robby gives him a wide berth. Robby can hold his own in a fight fair or no, but the guy is big, and it's late. </p><p>Or, he tries to give the man a wide berth. </p><p>"Mr Keene," the man says, rising to his feet. "I've been expecting you."</p><p><em> John Kreese</em>, Robby thinks. He feels extremely fucking stupid, looking at this man; like he's looking at a fairytale monster, something from under someone's bed. Why are you standing here? You should be running. You're a prey animal. You're Demetri. </p><p>In person he just looks like a man. Not the lurking shadow Miguel whispers about, or the bruises on Robby's dad's face, or Hawk's spitting rage: just a person, age heavy in his face, smelling overwhelmingly of cheap cigar. </p><p>Robby should turn on his heel and go. He has bridges to build. He has people to see. It's late at night and there are people waiting for him. He's good looking and seventeen and he doesn't need to spend his Saturday nights in a strip mall parking lot. </p><p>Robby says, "I've heard a lot about you, Mr Kreese." </p><p>Kreese smiles. It's an easy smile, a wolf's smile. "Won't you come in? This is all your kingdom, that's what I'm told." </p><p>The thing is, Robby does know who this man is, because he was in love with a man just like him; he knows, because he knows how his dad looks when he talks about him, because he can feel it in the pit of his stomach even now. </p><p>He never came out on top with Luke but he did learn enough to not lose. It's important to know that that's what the stakes are, and the real key is to know that if you don't lose that's all the win you're gonna get. </p><p>Maybe Robby's dad has trouble with that; it's a lesson he never taught Miguel, that's for sure. Robby's grateful. It wasn't fun to learn.</p><p>It's dingy inside, which Robby knew already, but it's worse when it's dark out and you can smell the way the sweat and disinfectant have mingled in the mats. There are too many kids in there sweating all the time for anything to really help, even when they've left and it's empty. At Miyagi-do they're all outside, so more than anything it smells of sweet fresh-cut grass. </p><p>Kreese takes him to the office, where there's a desk and a couple of chairs, and no writing on the walls, just a bare lightbulb that gutters. He pours Robby whiskey in a solo cup, a heavy, generous pour, and then another for himself. </p><p>Robby watches his hands. Wrinkled, spotted, with thick heavy nails. Like Robby's dad's, but even heavier. "You gonna tell me I look like my dad?" </p><p>"You don't," Kreese says. </p><p>Robby laughs and taps their cups together, takes his shot like a man: one swallow, smooth and easy, don't you dare wince. He was at Beth's and now he's here and between the two of those places it's easy to step into skin that used to belong to him, that he peeled off and set aside for a rainy day. "I'll take the compliment."</p><p>Kreese watches him, approving. "Your father was tall for his age," he says. "Even before he started training with me."</p><p>"My mom's short," Robby says. "I hear it's all about how you carry yourself, these days." He doesn't let himself fidget. This is basic: you catch the gaze, and you hold it. "Your drink'll get warm."</p><p>Kreese pours him another, and taps the rims of their cups together. It burns on the way down; top-shelf, this is not. Robby smiles, holding the man's gaze. Waiting it out. </p><p>"Have a seat," Kreese says. "I'm sure you have questions."</p><p>Does he? A year ago, he had a book of them, written in how fucking angry, abandoned, alone he was. All those things are still Robby's dad's fault. </p><p>Now - </p><p>"You beat the shit out of him," Robby says. "Did he deserve it?" </p><p>Kreese sits, legs splayed wide. His hair is a mass of wiry grey curl. Robby's mind doesn't have to stretch to imagine the younger, stronger version - a black cloud of a man. "That's what you think of your father?" </p><p>The other chair is for Robby but he leans against the desk, instead. That's something he learned from Luke, and then Mr LaRusso: there's always a third option. This way it's Robby looking down. "I asked first," Robby says. </p><p>Kreese shrugs. "He came here drunk," he says. "If it wasn't me, it would have been one of the boys."</p><p>Robby waits. </p><p>"Cobra Kai was mine first," Kreese continues. "All of it. Everything. I built it, like I built your father." </p><p>"Yeah?" Robby keeps his tone mild, gentle. Watching this man unsettles Robby. It's like the reverse of the Cobra students, who move like Robby's dad; Robby's dad moves like Kreese. Seeing it is - He can't look away. </p><p>"A man ought to have a legacy," Kreese says. "You'll learn that, in time."</p><p>Robby says, "What was he like?" </p><p>"A child. Raw clay. Nothing, until I made him a winner."</p><p>Robby leans forward. Kreese's face is like a cliffside, a landscape vast and alien. He doesn't pull away and Robby doesn't back off, so he can smell the whiskey on the man's breath when he says, "But you beat him."</p><p>"There's no shame in remembering who taught you." His eyes are half-hidden in the recesses of his face, and gleaming. "You ought to know that."</p><p>A pause. </p><p>"It eats him up that he didn't teach you. That you won't come home."</p><p>Robby rakes his fingers through his hair, watching Kreese watch him. "This will never be my home," he says. "As far as I'm concerned, you're welcome to it."</p><p>Kreese breathes out, whiskey and cigar smoke. "You'll always be welcome here," he says. "And your father, too. You can tell him that from me."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"Robby?" Robby's dad is lying on the couch, feet up. Miguel is sitting on the carpet, his back against the foot of the couch. He has a black eye, which is the least of what Robby would have expected. The eye is yellow and green, not black. He's wearing sweatpants and a Cobra Kai t-shirt, just like Robby's dad; a matching pair.</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He was all right for the short drive home but the buzz has settled in now, a sick honey-sweetness that makes his limbs feel heavy. "It's me."</p><p>"Hi," Miguel says. "You still mad?" He has delicate features, which Robby sometimes forgets, because of how he gets distracted by how overwhelming it is to think about Miguel. His eyelashes are very dark, like his eyes. </p><p>"Kinda," Robby says. "Tor?"</p><p>"She's babysitting. Couldn't get out of it." That's not a no, either. </p><p>But Robby goes to sit beside him, anyway. The carpet is gross. He should vacuum, or someone should. </p><p>Miguel tips his head against Robby's shoulder. He smells clean, like soap and fresh laundry. </p><p>Robby runs his fingers through Miguel's hair, lets his fingers settle against the side of Miguel's neck. He can feel Miguel's pulse, and it sets the pace of his own breath.</p><p>When Robby's dad looks at them Robby sees the longing. He can still feel the oily smear of Kreese's hand on his shoulder. He doesn't think a hot shower would get it off. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says, rubbing his thumb along Miguel's pulse point. "Let's do the app thing."</p><p>"What?" Robby's dad splutters, sitting up. </p><p>"Better than wallowing, Sensei," Miguel says, picking up what Robby's putting down. His smile is bright and wide. "The wallowing's not good for you."</p><p>"I'm not wallowing," Robby's dad says. He's not really mad, just looking at Robby and Miguel the same way he looks when Robby does a backflip. Just like he doesn't know how it works, or that someone could do it. </p><p>"You're wallowing," Robby says. </p><p>"Fuck you, kid," Robby's dad says. He tosses Miguel his phone. "Okay. Fix it."</p><p>It's easier for Robby's dad to tell these things to Miguel. That's not quite fair and it doesn't feel great but it is what it is: Miguel can sit on the couch with Robby's dad and say, "What are you looking for?" and Robby's dad will turn a dull brick red but say, "I don't know, dates, I guess," but when Robby says, "I think that picture's good," Robby's dad freezes up and looks away. </p><p>Miguel looks at Robby carefully, but Robby and Miguel are still - whatever. Maybe they'll talk about it, maybe they won't. So he doesn't say anything and Robby doesn't want him to say anything.</p><p>"Be right back," Robby says, squeezing Miguel's shoulder, and goes into his bedroom. He does have something to do, anyway.</p><p>She picks up on the first ring, like he knew she would: both of them waiting for the other to break first. He hears in the sharpness of her breath all the things she doesn't want to say, and because he's like her, it's enough. </p><p>Enough for now.</p><p>"Tory, I talked to Beth." Strike first, but also, in Mr LaRusso's voice: <em> for defense. </em></p><p>"What the fuck?" Her voice is sharp, full of venom, and brittle like Tory always is. That underlying note of real, endless fear; the knowledge you are only one wrong word from ending up alone. "Swayze, I swear to god -" </p><p>"She told me," Robby says. He wants to balance it right but god. It's so much worse than Mr LaRusso's fucking platform. "About the pictures."</p><p>A long silence. The absence, even, of her breathing. </p><p>"Tor-" </p><p>It bursts out all at once, a flood. He can see her face, the way she would look away from him, the way her fingernails would dig into her palms and she would tense into the fighting position that Robby's dad drilled into her. "I hate it, okay? It was stupid and it wasn't my fault and it will never fucking go away." </p><p>He waits. Beth told him about it in the dryest way possible, the way you talk about an old bruise, the way you got your cast signed when you were nine and broke your arm. Just: <em> revenge porn, like on Dr Phil, or whatever </em> . <em> And then Tory moved away. </em></p><p>"She shouldn't have told you. It shouldn't have happened in the first place." She's probably chewing on her lip right now, the only nervous thing she lets herself do when she's upset. "It was supposed to be over."</p><p>"I won't say anything," Robby says. "But, Tory - if you need help - whatever else is happening, I'm here."</p><p>"Yeah," Tory says. And then, "I have to go."</p><p>It's not convincing but it's not unconvincing; plausible deniability. </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. </p><p>"We'll talk," Tory says. "Thank you." </p><p>He lets her hang up. His bonsai need a little trimming, a little watering; he can hear the faint sounds of his dad and Miguel through the walls, but maybe he needs to feel soil under his fingernails, too. Just - a regular, easy breath. <em> This is where you are</em>. Not somewhere else. Here, with Miguel through the wall, and his dad, and his mom doing better, and - </p><p>A place where things are going to be okay.</p><p>Mr LaRusso was not super clear about how to prune the bonsai; Robby's pretty sure he gets them in bulk from somewhere. But Demetri sent Robby a pdf about bonsai from somewhere online and it's cool, it has all these diagrams about how to maintain the roots. It's winter so he should start thinking about repotting, but it feels like a big job and he's not sure he's ready for it yet.</p><p><em> Okay. </em>Suck it up, kid. </p><p>Miguel and Robby's dad are sitting on the couch, heads bent over Robby's dad's phone.</p><p>Miguel says, "What's wrong with this guy?" </p><p>"Can't take a punch," Robby's dad says, without missing a beat. "Look at that pretty face."</p><p>"Hey," Robby says, leaning over the back of the couch. "You can be both things at once."</p><p>The guy's too pretty, though. Robby's dad, like Robby's mom, needs to be the centre of the room. Just another reason they didn't work out. </p><p>"Takes one to know one," says Robby's dad, affectionately. Normally it would piss Robby off but right now it doesn't.</p><p>Robby shrugs. "I'm gonna have some cereal," he says, heading into the kitchen. "Anyone else?" </p><p>"I'm good," says Robby's dad, head bowed in concentration.</p><p>But Miguel gets up and follows Robby, and then they're in the quiet darkness of the kitchen, together, and Miguel is backing Robby up against the fridge. Both of them are quiet, careful; Robby's dad is right over there, but Miguel is pressed close against Robby's chest and Robby <em> wants -  </em></p><p>So he lets Miguel push him against the fridge door, both of them with breathing as controlled as a year and a half of martial arts has taught them, lets his hands fall limp at his sides and the crush of Miguel against him keep him steady, still, <em> here</em>.</p><p>Miguel brushes his thumbs over Robby's cheekbones. "We should talk about the party."</p><p>Robby can feel the prints of Miguel's fingers burning into the top layer of his skin. "No," he says. "It's fine now. It's done."</p><p>Miguel sighs. "You know it isn't."</p><p>Robby kisses him, too quick for either of them to see it coming. "Can we pretend it is? Just for now."</p><p>Miguel drops his head into Robby's throat, but he doesn't say no.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby sleeps in on Sunday. It's a deep, heavy sleep, the kind where you're wrapped up in something thick and soft and you never want to come out. </p><p>He feels good, getting up to the bright sunlight. Like he hasn't slept enough in a while and now everything is cleaner and brighter than it was before. Sure, shit's complicated, but shit's always complicated. But Robby's dad is doing better, and Robby's boyfriend is, too, and that means whatever happens Robby will be able to figure things out. </p><p>Robby's dad is wearing a suit. He's slicked back his hair. He's holding a briefcase and making faces at his reflection in the side of the toaster. </p><p>"What are you wearing?" Robby asks. "Are you - what the fuck? You look like you're getting divorced."</p><p>"I'm going," Robby's dad says, stepping back from the kitchen counter, "to see LaRusso's lawyer."</p><p>"What?" Robby rakes his fingers through his own hair. Maybe he will cut it. He grew it out to make his dad mad, and then he was dating Luke and Luke liked it long enough to tangle his hands in, and then he was used to looking like this, and everything was fucked up enough without looking in the mirror, seeing someone else. </p><p>"About the dojo, Robby," Robby's dad says. "You saw me. I'm on the app."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He yawns. "You, uh - how was that?" </p><p>Robby's dad shrugs. "It was okay," he says. "Easier than a bar, for once."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. </p><p>"You ever - you weren't on it, were you?" Robby's dad is staring at the floor near Robby's bare feet.</p><p>"What?" Robby sits down at the kitchen table.</p><p>Robby's dad looks at him. He looks old, but more than old, fragile. </p><p>Robby doesn't <em> forget </em> that his dad skipped out on sixteen years of Robby's life, but sometimes he doesn't think about how Robby's dad missed out, too. It wasn't just Robby who didn't have a dad, it was Robby's dad, who didn't have Robby. </p><p>It was his fucking fault, though. Robby's dad woke up every morning, three hundred and sixty five days a year, and could have seen Robby, and didn't. </p><p>Robby says, "You didn't like it?" </p><p>"There was a lot," Robby's dad says. "It was a lot of people. Of men."</p><p>"I'm seventeen," Robby says. "You know I -" But then, maybe he doesn't. Robby isn't going to tell him. He shrugs. "I have a boyfriend, and a girlfriend, so."</p><p>"Right," Robby's dad says. "And - before?" </p><p>They don't talk about Robby's ex. Robby's dad met him twice, once when Robby was fifteen and again this year, at the end of summer. The first time Luke was charming; the second time Robby and Luke broke up for real. So not the best range of impressions. </p><p>"I had a boyfriend," Robby says. If he wanted to say it, he could. It would bring Robby's dad to his knees, because, despite all the ways in which he has failed and continues to fail, he still wants to be Robby's father. "And then after that I was with Sam. And then Miguel and Tory."</p><p>Robby's dad looks relieved. "Okay," he says. "I know how I was, with babes, when I was your age. If we'd had, you know, apps-" </p><p>It's like watching someone tread water. Robby throws him a rope. "I've never been into that," he says. "Never had any trouble meeting people. So." It's true, even. He let Luke swipe for them. </p><p>"All right," Robby's dad says. </p><p>"Anybody stick?" Robby asks. "Got any hot non-LaRusso dates planned?" He lets himself grin. </p><p>"Ugh," Robby's dad says. "I don't know. Maybe."</p><p>Robby grins. "Don't be a pussy," he says. And then, because Robby's dad is standing there, looking out of place in his shitty kitchen  - "Do you want me to come with you?" </p><p>"Oh," Robby's dad says. His teeth click together.</p><p>The door swings open. "Sensei, we're gonna be late!" </p><p>Ah. Of course. </p><p>"Hey, Diaz," Robby says. He lets the smile curl all the way across his face, doesn't let the little hiccup in his stomach show.</p><p>Miguel, to his credit, recovers quickly. "Hey, Keene." He crosses the room in long, swift strides, pressing a kiss to Robby's cheek. That's an apology, doing it in front of Robby's dad. "You wanna come? Could be fun."</p><p>"Nah," Robby says, keeping his voice light. "Snake shit, I think." But he gets up so he can look Miguel up and down, toss him the wolf-whistle he perfected at the skate park when he was eight. "You look good, though."</p><p>Miguel ducks his head. He's wearing slacks and a button-down, hair gelled back. He looks like a handsome kid on the cover of a college brochure. "Thanks."</p><p>Robby laughs. "Go," he says, kissing Miguel again. "Don't be late. The fate of Cobra Kai karate depends on it."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Beth said, <em> there are pictures of me and Tory. </em> And then she tossed her head, with its sharp fine features and that mane of tangled hair. Like drawing a knife, like throwing the first punch, she said: <em> To clarify, the pictures are naked. We're having sex in them. </em></p><p>It's stupid but Robby's first thought was <em> oh shit, glad that's not me. </em>There are almost no pictures of Robby and Luke, because Luke was fucking paranoid about them, but if there had been - </p><p>There's a video, somewhere. Robby's face isn't in it, and neither is Luke's. They had to check a bunch of times to get the angle right. You can tell because Luke has a tattoo on his right hip. It's a little four leaf clover and Robby drew it, because Luke always said Robby was his luckiest find. </p><p>Maybe Luke has some more pictures but Robby doesn't have any. Luke always made his friends get rid of any pictures with them, together. Robby got used to doing it too. Got used to humming like a live wire when anyone said anything about them outside of the specific places where they were allowed to be together, where the point of Robby was that he was supposed to be seen with Luke. </p><p>The point was, that fear washed over him like a melting glacier when Beth said it. The idea of someone who doesn't know you seeing - all of that, of you - it's terrifying. Robby's never experienced that but things have come close to him, that kind of alarming openness to people who can and will do you harm. Luke always bailed him out, but it's a bad fucking feeling. </p><p>Robby said, <em> who? </em></p><p>And Beth said, <em> that's why I asked Tory. Because I couldn't get him to stop.  </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby doesn't spend much time at Tory's mom's apartment. He knows Miguel did, a little, before Robby got together with them, but Robby and Miguel live in the same place so it's just easier when Tory comes by. Robby's dad is the easiest parent to work around, by a long shot, so that helps, too.</p><p>It's not that far, though. An easy drive into the sunny afternoon, some Misfits blaring from the speakers of Mr LaRusso's car. The sting of Robby's dad and Robby's boyfriend, who like each other better than they like Robby, washed away by the sunshine.</p><p>Robby has not a small number of unread messages. He skips all of them for Tory's name. <em> I'm outside. </em></p><p>Tory opens the door. "Seth's running a fever," she says. "So don't be loud."</p><p>Seth's her little brother. He's eleven, old enough to be at home alone, but not when he's sick. She doesn't talk about him much but he likes Robby and Miguel. Miguel's better with him, which is to be expected. Robby's only good with kids who like skateboarding. </p><p>Robby nods and steps inside. </p><p>Tory's mom's place is the same size as Miguel's: three bedrooms, a living room, a tiny kitchen, a bathroom. </p><p>"No Diaz?" </p><p>"If you want to tell him, you call him," Robby says, waiting for her to shut the door behind him. </p><p>She nods. "Okay." She's standing there in sweatpants and an old t shirt, hair in a bun on the top of her head. She looks tired and a little nervous, which makes her bare her teeth a little, weight settled into the balls of her feet, ready to strike.</p><p>It's not going to be a fight. "Can I?" he asks.</p><p>She bites her lip. "You want to?" </p><p>"Jesus, Tor." </p><p>But she leans in and then he does, too, and when she kisses him she tastes like raspberry chapstick and vanilla coffee. "Hi."</p><p>"Hi." He settles his hand on the curve of her cheek. "Seth okay?" </p><p>She makes a face, steps forward so he can wrap his other arm around her. She doesn't lean into him but she does slide her hand into the back pocket of his jeans. "Just a flu," she says. "Mom's at work, though."</p><p>"It's good he has you," Robby says. When Robby was a little kid his mom would stay home with him, except for how sometimes she wouldn't. Now he's older and he understands it a little more; he's not sure if it's worse or better that he knows she could have done things a different way. You can always do something else.</p><p>She's his fucking mom, anyway. She was, in fact, always there when he really, really needed her.</p><p>"Thanks," Tory says. She kisses him again, sweetly, carefully, and then steps away, sliding her fingers around to curl through the belt loop by his right hip. "You want anything? I think we have, uh, vermouth." She makes a face. "Or Coke."</p><p>"Uh, water's fine. Do you need Nyquil or anything? I can run out."</p><p>She shakes her head. "It's okay, I went out before Mom left. Thanks."</p><p>"Yeah, of course."</p><p>She leads him into her bedroom. He's been here before, but not often, just hovering in the doorway while she fills a backpack or grabs her clothes for work. It's tiny, just enough room for a twin bed and a little desk, a pile of clothes in the corner and a picture of the three of them on the wall. They went to the Golf N Stuff photobooth, which is too small for three teenagers who do martial arts, but they made it work. In the picture they are all smiling. </p><p>"Wherever," she says, waving her arm. </p><p>He shrugs and sits down on the edge of the bed. It's soft and smells like her. </p><p>She sighs and sits down cross-legged so she is facing him. "So, you talked to Beth."</p><p>"You took Hawk to talk to Beth."</p><p>She winces. "Well, I wasn't going to bring Diaz." She shakes her head. "Wait, one sec-" </p><p>And he thinks, yeah, good idea, watching her light the joint and take the first inhale, and instead of handing it over - shotgun. </p><p>"If I get Seth's flu," he says, lightly. </p><p>"You were already gonna," she says, resting her head against his shoulder. "Okay."</p><p>He curls his hand around the back of her neck. Breathe out, breathe in.</p><p>The first time they ever trusted each other they were in Robby's bedroom, Miguel asleep in Robby's bed, the two of them sitting next to each other on the floor, coming down. They'd been at a party that Robby's ex had thrown. They'd left early, and intact, for what that was worth.</p><p>He was fucked up, from the molly and whatever else he'd let Luke slip to him, and from Miguel settling against him so Luke could see it, and from the way Robby himself had simply let it happen. Robby had wanted it, even - not for Luke, either, not to show something off to him to for him, but for Robby, himself.</p><p>And Tory was there, and she'd laughed and let him hold Miguel, even though Miguel was maybe the most precious thing either of them had ever touched. (A silly thing to think about someone who's knocked your arm out of its socket, but Robby was pretty fucked.)</p><p>She was drinking water out of a plastic cup from Robby's dad's cabinet. The cup might have been older than Robby. The water trickled down the side of her face and she wiped it with the back of her hand and grinned at him. "That guy," she said. "He sucks, right?" </p><p>Robby blinked. He was used to people being charmed, because he had been charmed. He still was charmed. His mouth still tasted like Luke; he had still almost gone to the bedroom with Luke. "I don't know," he said. </p><p>She frowned at him. "No, he's bad news." And then, after another deep drink, "Do you love him?"</p><p>Everything was spinning. Miguel was snoring above Robby's head, in Robby's bed. "Sam really hates you," Robby said. </p><p>Tory grinned, a fierce lion's tooth smile. "I know exactly who she is," she said. "That's what she hates, really."</p><p>Robby shook his head, because he was too tired and too out of it to defend anybody. "I really loved him," he said, resting the back of his head against the mattress. "I - fuck. I thought it was over, but maybe it'll never be over."</p><p>She bared her teeth again, halfway between a smile and a snarl. "I know," she said. "It feels like shit."</p><p>Now, in the future, Tory is sitting cross-legged on her bed and Robby's sitting beside her with his back against the wall, so his legs dangle off the long edge of the bed and she is perpendicular to him, like in geometry. He is a little bit high but not too much; he let her have most of it. </p><p>She says, "Beth was my best friend." Her eyes are bright and she is looking at him straight-on, even, firm. If you are a shark you cannot stop swimming. "We'd known each other forever, since we were little kids. Her older sister used to babysit for me and Seth; we were just always around each other. Her family's kind of fucked up. She lived right next to us, with her mom, but her dad had a big house in Encino. He was always screwing them out of child support and shit but the one time she got caught shoplifting he was right there with like, big money lawyers. So it was like that."</p><p>"Ah," he says. <em> Like Sam. </em>But not like Sam. Sam's not like Beth at all.</p><p>Her mouth curves, rueful. "She started fucking shitty dudes around the same time you did. I was there too, it wasn't just her. It wasn't like anyone made me do anything. Or made her do anything. It just-"</p><p>"Happened," Robby says. Filling in the blanks.</p><p>She nods, beginning to stretch out one leg, then the other.</p><p>He settles his palm on her ankle. Just so she knows he's there.</p><p>"So they sucked," Tory continues. "Some of them sucked less, some of them sucked more. This one guy she was dating, he was - a fucking asshole, for one thing, just like <em> mean </em> when he didn't have to be, and it made her mean, which I hated - but he really liked, like girl on girl. So we started. Doing that."</p><p>He wraps his fingers around one ankle, then the other, so he can stack her legs on top of his. </p><p>She leans into it, scoots forward, so her thighs are there, close to his. "I liked it, because I liked her. Because I loved her. And that felt fucking stupid, because it <em> was </em> fucking stupid, but you know how it goes. I'd have done anything for her." A beat, so she can tilt her head to the side and look at him. "Did you ever do anything like that?"</p><p>He kisses her temple. "Yeah. It was all his idea, and that made it weird. Maybe that's why we're so fucked about Diaz."</p><p>She grins at Miguel's name. "Maybe." And then she shakes her head, again. "Anyway, they had a fight and all the pictures went online. They had, like, worked together? They'd planned to take the pictures, but they didn't tell me. So I didn't know, and then everyone found out at the same time as I did."</p><p>"Jesus."</p><p>"So that's why I left my old school and stopped talking to her." Tory drops her forehead onto his shoulder, so he can pet her hair, just a little. Then she lifts her head up again, that steady, even stare."It mostly got taken down, because we were sixteen, so that's child porn. My mom was really mad, obviously. Because we had to move. And that's why I don't want to like, tell her about this, I guess? Not because it doesn't matter, but. Because the last time it fucked everything up <em> so </em> fucking bad."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. He puts his arm around her shoulder. "Hey, come here." This is what Luke used to do for him when he was losing it, about one thing or another, and it sucks to always think in terms of Luke but it did make him feel better, and so he pulls Tory into his lap and lets her put her face in his shirt while he draws little circles on her back. He thinks about what he would have wanted to hear. What Luke never said to him. "None of it was your fault, okay? None of it."</p><p>She breathes out, unsteady, like a sob. "Thanks," she says. “You’re all right, Keene.”</p><p>"Anytime, Nichols."</p><p>"I don't know much about him, anymore," Tory says. "His name's Will. I guess he and Beth got back together again, or she pissed him off, or something? Figures I can't even be the point of my own revenge porn." She sighs. "What did she say to you?"</p><p>He takes the tie out of her hair, runs his fingers through it, pulling it into strands for something to do. He used to braid his mom's hair when he was a kid and she was hungover. "Not much. A lot about how bad she felt."</p><p>"Hawk can take it down," Tory says. "He's like, he's good at that shit. I know you don't like him, but he's a good friend. He's been looking into it. The problem is just that it keeps coming back. Or, it did when it was just her."</p><p>First section over, under, through. He presses his fingers to the nape of her neck. "He can't track it?"</p><p>"He's trying. But, you know."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Not really."</p><p>He feels the vibration of her laugh against his chest. "Yeah," she says. "Me either."</p><p>Robby says, "Do you miss her?"</p><p>Tory swallows. "Do you miss him?" </p><p>"Not as much, when I'm with you, or Diaz." That's true. That's the thing about Tory, being around her makes him want to tell the truth. </p><p>"Good answer," she says. "Me too."</p><p>There's a knock on the door, Seth in pajamas, red-eyed and sniffling. </p><p>"Oh, shit," Tory says, kissing Robby's cheek and climbing off his lap. The half-finished braid trails over her shoulder. "Hey, buddy. Still bad?"</p><p>Seth nods. His hair is damp with sweat, eyes glazed. "Can I have some juice?"</p><p>"Yeah, of course." She makes a face at Robby, waving towards the door, and kneels next to her brother.</p><p><em> Okay, </em> he mouths. <em> Call me soon. </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's still early in the afternoon. Robby could go home and wait for his dad and Miguel to get back, or he could go to Sam's and do some homework.</p><p>Or, he could do something extremely stupid. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck, man? I could have taken your eye out."</p><p>"Yeah, hi. Nice to see you too." Robby flashes his best fuck you too smile. </p><p>Hawk glares. "Nobody you're fucking is here right now, so. You should go home."</p><p>They're in the lot outside Cobra Kai, where Hawk sometimes runs an obstacle course on Sundays. Robby knows, because Miguel sometimes goes to do it with him, and he keeps saying <em> I really think you'd have fun.  </em></p><p>And now Robby's here, in the middle of the pile of cones and ladders, grinning. He feels like an asshole but it's a good feeling, a bared-teeth bare-knuckle kind of fierceness. He stretches his arms above his head. "How's that knee feeling?" </p><p>"Fuck you." Hawk's stopped moving, though. Just standing opposite Robby, ready to go. </p><p>Robby spreads his arms wide. He's wearing jeans and an old t shirt of his dad's; feels good, organic. "I'm right here, man."</p><p>Defense only. Sure. Mr LaRusso taught Robby well. </p><p>Offense is the best defense. Robby's his father's son. </p><p>Hawk judges the distance. He's cut up from the party, losing once then again. Takes a breath, and here he comes. </p><p>All <em> right </em>. </p><p>Hawk's lunge knocks the breath out of him. Robby's out of practice in a fight with stakes. It's been a minute since the mall food court but he knows Hawk's thinking about it, too. </p><p>"Your girl's not here to protect you," Hawk snarls. </p><p>Robby laughs. "You need to call four more guys? I'll wait."</p><p>Hawk is sloppy, furious. Robby's not exactly balanced himself. Not his best karate, but god, if it's not fun.</p><p>Robby loves the karate Mr LaRusso taught him. It settles him into his spirit, makes him feel like his best self, the self he never thought he could find. </p><p>Sometimes you're not your best self, though. Sometimes, like everyone's telling him, you just wanna get down in the dirt and go for the knee.  Sometimes you gotta remember that you grew up somewhere nobody cared about you and you just need to scream so that the universe remembers that you count. </p><p>Hawk takes him to the ground, hard. "Enough?" </p><p>They're both bleeding. Hawk's lip is cut and his nose is dripping but he's grinning, just like Tory. </p><p>Robby's kidneys are dully throbbing and his head aches where Hawk kicked it. He feels like he might be done but fuck, he's not gonna say it. </p><p>A honk from the roadside is enough distraction for Robby to get his knee up, flip and roll, onto his feet so he can kick Hawk down. </p><p>Hawk stares at him from the dust. "This isn't over," he says. </p><p>"Counting on it," Robby says. He lets himself smile, really smile. </p><p>There's a Rover idling at the curb. It's familiar, sleek and gleaming. </p><p>"Get in." Luke grins at him out the window. White teeth, piercing eyes. He talks like he always has, like the universe wouldn't ever dare to defy him. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>Robby gets in. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's been five months. Robby's happy. Robby's life is good. He doesn't miss Luke. </p><p>"Hey, kid." He's so fucking handsome. Robby forgot about this and now he's breathless. </p><p>"Hey." Robby settles into his seat, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I was doing fine, by the way."</p><p>Luke's laugh rumbles through Robby's chest, low and easy. "Sure thing." He reaches across Robby's chest, to the glove box, flips it open so he can pass Robby a thing of wet wipes. "Don't bleed on my leather, baby."</p><p>"Don't call me baby," Robby says, but he dabs at his face anyway. Fuck, that stings. </p><p>"I have stuff in the trunk," Luke says, eyes flickering back and forth between Robby and the road. "We can pull over in a second."</p><p>Robby crumples his wipe in his hand. Doesn't say anything. </p><p>Luke looks exactly like himself. He's wearing jeans and a grey-and-white henley, hair shorter than it was the last time they saw each other but still with a little curl. He is just as handsome. "You wanna talk about it?" </p><p>"Not really," Robby says. </p><p>That low easy laugh, again. "You always get yourself in shit when you're freaked out," Luke says. "It's predictable, sweetheart."</p><p>That's even worse. Robby used to like the pet names until he figured out Luke actually meant them like he was a pet. This is the story of Robby and Luke in a nutshell: Robby thought Luke cared about him, but he was actually - </p><p>He doesn't bristle, though, because it's not worth it. He just looks out at the road and says, "My car's back there, you can turn around."</p><p>"Oh, hey, no," Luke says. He sounds genuinely startled. "Robby, don't. I just wanted to check on you."</p><p>Robby's face is starting to hurt for real, now that the adrenaline is wearing off. His ribs are gonna bruise like a bitch tomorrow. "Okay," he says. "You checked on me."</p><p>"<em>Robby</em>." Firm, calm. The kind of voice you can't say no to.</p><p>Robby feels himself shrink in his seat. Feels himself get smaller and quieter and hears it in his own soft voice. "Sorry."</p><p>"It's okay," Luke says. "C'mon, let's get something to eat and we'll clean you up, okay? I bet it would freak your dad out to see you like this."</p><p>That's probably true, actually. Robby's dad is walking a tightrope right now and while he's handling it better than he's handled a lot of things in Robby's life, that doesn't mean he's doing <em> well</em>. Probably picking a fight with Hawk is not on Robby's list of smart choices, but he really doesn't think it's that bad, in the scheme of things. </p><p>"Robby?" </p><p>Robby sighs. "Okay," he says. "But I gotta be home by six." </p><p>"Oh, you have a curfew now?" Luke teases. "All right." </p><p>They sit in silence for a while. Luke's got something playing softly on the radio, maybe 00s Kanye. The dull ache of getting almost beat by Hawk is settling into Robby's muscles; if he was at home he'd be putting some frozen peas on that. He doesn't actually know if they have frozen peas. They're good for ice packs, so maybe.</p><p>He keeps looking at Luke. Texting is one thing but seeing him - feeling the presence of him, the way he still smells so fucking good to Robby - it's a lot. The last time they spoke in person Miguel fucked up Luke's wrist and Robby threatened him and it was supposed to be the end of things. </p><p>Obviously Robby fucked that up. </p><p>In his defense, shit was already pretty fucked up. </p><p>Against his better judgement Robby finds himself leaning against the window, drifting off, just a little. The crash always gets him and being here reminds him he's used to it. Or his body is, even if his brain knows better. He yawns.</p><p>Luke looks over, smiling. "Almost home." </p><p>Robby rubs his eyes. "What?" </p><p>But they're in Calabasas, fuck <em> off </em> , and Robby's fucking tired but Luke's never actually hurt him, not physically, not in a way that ever stuck, so. "Fuck you," but he says it lightly. And then - "I have a boyfriend." <em> And a girlfriend </em>, but Luke doesn't really care about that. He wouldn't. </p><p>"Don't worry," Luke says, but there's a little tension in his shoulders, a little tightness to his mouth. "I won't do anything your karate boyfriend would disapprove of." </p><p>Robby feels his chest tighten. He hates feeling like this, but what else is he gonna do?</p><p>They pull into the drive, staring down the familiar rows of topiary and neatly-raked gravel. Luke opens the Rover door for Robby, offers him a hand to get down. Robby shouldn't take it. He should shove Luke off him, say <em> I want to go home</em>, but he doesn't so what would be the point of that?</p><p>He doesn't even have his phone. He left it in the car when he went to talk to Hawk. </p><p><em> What were you even thinking? </em> Now that the adrenaline's worn off, settled to a sick feeling in his stomach, Robby can admit to himself that he was looking for a fight. Looking for something to feel, something to do, to stop feeling like an extra useless attachment to everyone else's fucking chaos. Story of your life, Robby Keene.</p><p>"Kid," Luke says. His fingers close around Robby's wrist. "Come here, Jesus." </p><p>Robby breathes out, a sob, and then Luke is there, the huge warm vastness of him; wrapping himself around Robby, so Robby can lean his aching body into Luke's and hide his face in Luke's broad clean shoulder. "Fuck."</p><p>"C'mon," Luke says, wrapping his arm around Robby's waist. "Lean on me, killer, let's go." </p><p>Robby lets himself be halfway carried. It's better than getting like, actually picked up, which he knows Luke can do because he's done it, and if he pulls away this isn't going to go better for him. "I'm fine."</p><p>"I know," Luke says. His hand curls around Robby's hip. "Maybe I'm the one who's freaked out, thought about that?" </p><p>"Fuck off," Robby says.</p><p>"Remember the time you wiped out?" Luke asks. "When you almost broke your nose."</p><p>Robby laughs, accidentally. "You were <em> so </em>freaked out. It wasn't even that bad, it just looked like it." He'd been fifteen, trying to show off with a tailslide he'd only made a couple times before. </p><p>"You hit the ground with your face!" Luke says. "Your <em> face</em>."</p><p>"It's okay," Robby teases. "I'm still pretty." </p><p>Luke stops. Reaches down, very carefully, to push Robby's hair behind his ear. "Yeah." </p><p>Robby's heart is beating too fast. <em> Fuck</em>. He shakes his head away from Luke's hand.</p><p>Luke says, "I stayed up the whole night. They said maybe it was your head, but it probably wasn't, but I was so fucking freaked out. Just watched you sleep."</p><p>Robby taps his knuckles to his head. "Don't worry," he says. "Nothing scrambled." </p><p>And then they are inside. The house is familiar; he knows it better than he should. Sometimes when he dreams he is walking here and something is chasing him, or the walls are closing in on him. It smells like fresh-cut flowers. </p><p>"Shouldn't you be at school?" Robby asks, to fill the silence. The house is always empty. </p><p>"There was a birthday thing," Luke says. "I came back Friday, I'll probably leave tomorrow morning. It's a quick flight." He leads Robby further in; one left, one right. His bedroom. </p><p>"Again," Robby says. "Boyfriend. Also girlfriend."</p><p>Luke laughs. "You always were an overachiever." And then he reaches out to smooth Robby's hair, again. "Just thought you'd want to shower." </p><p>God help Robby, he does. He walks to the bathroom, that carpet so soft against his feet, and pulls the door shut behind him, and looks at the mirror.</p><p>Robby does not look good. He knows he's only going to look worse tomorrow, so he's going to have to wear full long sleeves to Miyagi-do and hope that Demetri and Sam are too busy flirting to look too closely at him. Mr LaRusso hasn't picked up on them yet but if he hasn't picked up on that he probably won't notice Robby, either. Robby can hope. </p><p>The hot water feels good, amazing water pressure like always. Robby's had not a few epiphanies in this specific shower but today he's just tired so he tips his head forward into the spray and thinks, <em> god, Keene, how the fuck are you gonna get out of this one?  </em></p><p>Luke's left a pile of clothes on the bathroom counter, under a thick white towel. Robby hates that they fit - that they're just his, that Luke bought them for him, that they just stayed here in Luke's house all this time. But they're clean and they smell like laundry, not Luke, so he pulls on the t shirt and the briefs and the comfortable joggers and squares himself up to the mirror, again. </p><p>Who are you? </p><p>Robby Keene. Miyagi-do. Miguel and Tory's boyfriend. Samantha's best friend. A whole long list before you even get to who Luke used to be to him. </p><p>He looks pale but the scrapes aren't as bad. Hawk only got him into the ground a couple times, most of the hits were good - frankly, Robby's were worse, he'd bet Hawk will be feeling that knee for a while. And that sucks. He probably should sit and think about that, the way he just turned off and went crazy. He wonders if that's how his dad feels, when he fights. </p><p>"Robby?" A knock on the door. </p><p>That, Robby isn't used to. He's used to Luke just coming in, pressing up against Robby's back, kissing him. </p><p>Maybe he's trying. Robby's trying. Stranger things have happened, like Robby's dad putting on a suit and sometimes cooking a vegetable. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says, pulling his shirt down over the kaleidoscope on his ribs. "I'm coming out."</p><p>"I'm ordering," Luke says, through the door. "Thai still okay?" </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "Summer rolls, please." </p><p>Luke makes a low sound of agreement - he really fucking likes summer rolls - and Robby hears the sound of his feet walking away. </p><p>He squints and his reflection squints back. Maybe he will cut his god damn hair. </p><p>Luke's bed is a California king. When they were together they'd spend all day here, getting high and fucking, getting crumbs all over themselves. It was Robby who taught Luke to do laundry, because he hated leaving the sheets in a pile somewhere. Luke complained but he always did it when Robby asked. </p><p>Now Luke is sitting in one of the armchairs by the window, fucking around on his phone. He looks up. "You look better."</p><p>Robby pads, barefoot, into the other chair. Pulls his feet up so he can wrap his arms around his knees. "Thanks." And then, because they're here, together, "Was the party good?" </p><p>Luke shrugs. His eyes are laser-focused on Robby; it makes Robby uncomfortable now, but it used to make him feel safe. "It was like they always are," he says. </p><p>Robby wants to rip his throat out, but he doesn't want that, at all. "You bring anyone home?" </p><p>Luke's laugh is startled, but not offended. "Why? You jealous?" </p><p>"You know I'm not." <em> You trained that out of me.  </em></p><p>Luke doesn't wince but his mouth twists, a little. "I'm sorry," he says. "About that. We should have talked it through."</p><p>"It wouldn't have made a difference," Robby says. "You were going to do it."</p><p>"Robby-" </p><p>This is where Luke would catch him by the hip and reel him in, and Robby would be stiff and pissed off but he would sit in Luke's lap, anyway. And Luke would pet Robby's hair and say, <em> baby, you know I love you. </em> And Robby would let himself go soft, arch his neck so Luke could bite his throat and say, <em> you're mine, remember?  </em></p><p>But this is the future. </p><p>Robby shrugs. "Don't worry about it," he says. "Water under the bridge. How's your wrist doing, by the way?" </p><p>The light comes in through the window; you can see past it to the still, empty water of the pool. Luke's jaw twitches. He says, "It's fine. Sore for a couple of weeks. I deserved it."</p><p>Robby rests his chin on his knee. "Yeah." And then - "What are we doing here? It wasn't a good breakup."</p><p>"I feel bad about that," Luke says. "I fucked up. I shouldn't have - fuck. I shouldn't have asked you for the money." </p><p>Robby's stomach hurts. "I did owe you," he says. For three days he barely slept; he went into places he wouldn't have touched before. He was pretty sure he’d come out of it with a broken arm at least, resigned to it. "It was a lot of fucking money, Luke."</p><p>"I didn't expect you to-" Luke shakes his head. He looks sincere, but he always looks sincere. That's why he's such a good liar. He believes shit when he says it. "I shouldn't have asked for it, but I swear, I didn't - I really didn't think you'd do it."</p><p>"What did you think was going to happen?" Robby asks. "I was gonna like - say, oh, I can't do it, can I make it up to you? And then get on my knees?" </p><p>"No," Luke says. "I guess, just. You were gonna say, <em> I can't </em> , and I was going to say, <em> it's okay, I'm here to take care of you </em>. Like always. And then it was going to be good again."</p><p>Robby doesn't mean to laugh but it just comes out. He claps his hand over his mouth. "Fuck."</p><p>Luke shrugs, a little offended, a little amused. "I guess I deserve that."</p><p>Robby says, "You do."</p><p>Luke's face settles back to neutral. "It turned out good for you, though. In the end."</p><p>Robby blinks. </p><p>"The boyfriend," Luke says. "Even though you're texting me." He cocks his head and says, "The girlfriend, too."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Robby says. He doesn't want Luke to talk about Miguel and Tory. "I'm happy. It's good. Better than it was with you."</p><p>A moment, that ugliness flashing across the handsome face, then it's gone. If Robby didn't know him he would think it was a trick of the light. "It's funny, you with a girl. Just to think about."</p><p>Robby says, "Don't talk about her."</p><p>Luke's jaw clenches. "Okay." He reaches out with his hand, like he's going to touch Robby, but he pulls it back. "Can we talk about your dad?" </p><p>Robby wants to curl in on himself. He keeps his back straight, instead. "What about him?" </p><p>"Swayze, c'mon." The gentle croon of his voice, the way he looks at Robby. "I'm here. It's okay."</p><p>Robby says, "It sucked when you left. You know that, right? It sucked a lot." He stares at the carpet, feeling stupid and sore. </p><p>Luke exhales. "I know."</p><p>Luke's phone makes a sound, a bright chime. They stare at each other and Luke says, "Shit, food's here. We can eat in here if you want. Or out there."</p><p>"Wherever," Robby says, flexing his bare toes into the carpet. "I need to go home, so."</p><p>"Right," Luke says. "Kitchen?"</p><p>Robby nods, following him down the hall; something he knows how to do.</p><p>Luke has the stupid craft beer Robby used to like in the fridge. It's not a fucking Coors which means Robby's tastebuds aren't ready for it, but it's nice that Luke remembered. </p><p>They sit at the kitchen island across from each other, Luke's sleeves pushed up to his elbows as he cracks his chopsticks apart. </p><p>Robby rakes his fingers through his hair and frowns at his summer roll. "It's weird living with my dad," he says. "It's like he cares, all of a sudden. But he never cared before."</p><p>Luke sips his beer, fingers loose around the bottleneck. "How'd you find out? Did you walk in on something?" </p><p>Robby winces. He's obvious to Luke, like Luke is obvious to him. </p><p>"Shit," Luke says. "Really?" </p><p>"You never got any, like, vibes off him?" Luke was always way better than Robby at spotting a closet case from sixty paces. Luke used to call it his superpower and he mostly used it to get fucked up at his dad's parties. </p><p>"I only met the guy, like, twice," Luke says. And then, thoughtfully, "God, it would be just Shan's luck."</p><p>Robby makes a face and steals a piece of tofu out of Luke's pad thai. "She's doing better now, just so you know."</p><p>"Yeah? That's good." </p><p>There is a real question Robby wants to ask. Now that he's here, and Luke is here, and they are in the same room, together. "What kind of person sleeps with someone who's like. Not single?" </p><p>"Robby-" Luke, unlike Robby's dad, is a flincher. He recovers quickly, but he always shows the hit. </p><p>Robby takes a sip of his beer. Remembers the first time, the second time, all the times that blurred together when Luke let him down. "I don't think my dad is a good guy. But I thought maybe he was getting better."</p><p>"Robby," Luke says. Eyes wide, locked on Robby. "You know those guys were my fault. It was me." He's so good at sounding sincere. You really would believe him. </p><p>"You don't just do that, though," Robby says. Maybe it's sticking in his chest, maybe that's where Hawk got a solid punch in. "Like, it doesn't come out of nowhere."</p><p>"Baby," Luke says, gently, like he feels sorry for Robby. Luke doesn't feel sorry for anyone, so Robby must be fucked up. "A lot of the time, I lied. You know that, right? You know." </p><p>Robby's mouth tastes bitter, like beer and blood. "I know." But, still. </p><p>"I'll tell you who I always got the vibe off," Luke says, an obvious attempt to change the subject. "Your girlfriend's dad. Mr L. Danny LaRusso."</p><p>Robby almost rolls his eyes but Luke hates when he does that, and old habits die hard. He looks at the ceiling instead. They got new kitchen lights; these ones are even more glass than the old ones. "Sam's not my girlfriend."</p><p>"Oh, was that my fault? I'd say sorry, but I'm not." Playful, easy. Back to even ground where they both know whose fault everything is.</p><p>"Yeah, thanks for nothing." Robby drinks. "No, that wasn't going anywhere. We're friends."</p><p>"She's cute," Luke says. "A nice kid. Smart." He reaches across the table for a summer roll. "A little - well. For you."</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" </p><p>Luke chews, waves his hand through the air. "Forget I said that."</p><p>"Luke." Robby should be over being pissed off about this shit, but he isn't. Surprise, surprise. </p><p>"Just, you know. Vanilla. She's a nice kid."</p><p>"Oh, and I'm not?" But Robby's never been a nice kid, everyone knows that. You only need to look at Robby to know that. Except for how Luke bought him all those clothes and taught him to talk nicely to old ladies, and that's how Robby got the job at LaRusso Auto. That's beside the point. </p><p>"You're the nicest kid, Robby." Luke's eyelids lower; he doesn't look away. He's leaning towards Robby, like he could just - </p><p>Robby puts his beer down, hard, so it chimes against the marble counter. "Mr LaRusso's a good man," he says. "You pretend nobody's good, so you feel better, that you aren't."</p><p>"Relax," Luke says. "I'm not saying he'd ever do anything. I'm just saying -" and then he leans forward and says, "Oh, Robby, really?"</p><p>Robby closes his eyes. "Whatever you think you know," he says, "you don't." </p><p>Luke's fingers are cool on the side of his face, from the beer. When Robby opens his eyes Luke is right there, pushing Robby's hair behind his ear. "Okay," he says. "Sure." </p><p>Robby says, "I really think I should go. You can just call me an Uber."</p><p>"It's fine," Luke says. "I'll drive you back to your car." </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Don't do this," Miguel whispers into Robby's mouth. "You can flip out, but flip out to me. Or Tory, or Sam. Do it with me, though."</p><p>"I can't," Robby says. He pulls back, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. "I -" None of the secrets are his, but all of them are.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: more engagement w revenge porn (against tory, non-graphic); some reference to robby's fucked up relationship history; some tory/ofc and johnny/omc</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The drive's better, now that Robby has his head back. It's easier to remember that Luke isn't in his life for a reason. Luke's just a big guy who likes telling Robby what to do and you can't throw a rock in West Hollywood without hitting four of those. Robby is fine without him. Even if things are getting fucked up Robby's got people who aren't Luke, and he's got himself.</p><p>And Luke's car is too big. It's stupid big. He doesn't need a car this big, he never leaves the city in it. Even when they did go out of town he'd always drive something else.</p><p>Robby watches him drive and it doesn't feel like his heart is being squeezed in a vise. It just feels like he is in the car with a guy he used to spend a lot of time with and now he doesn't see as much. That's good, right? It's better.</p><p>Luke is watching him back. He doesn't look mad or dangerous, just neutral. Thoughtful. </p><p>That's never been the best position for Luke to be in. But hey, it's not Robby's problem, anymore. He can just sit here and watch Luke and not think about what he’s doing to do next.</p><p>They pull into the mini mall, where there's a pile of glass next to Robby's car, which - </p><p>"Shit," Robby says. He gets out of Luke's car. One step, then another. Fuck, it looks bad. </p><p>Of course his car <em> would </em> get trashed. You can't just leave something right there after you picked a fight. Robby's fair game right now, took himself out of his safe boyfriend space all on his own.</p><p>Hawk must have called for backup. Taking out all the windows on his own would have taken forever. Even here, someone would have called the cops.</p><p>Luke leans out the window. "That's yours? Fuck, Robby-" </p><p>"Get <em> out</em>," Robby says. He's too tired to be polite, and Luke knows it. "Go home." </p><p>Luke shrugs. His eyes are so fucking blue. "You have my number."</p><p>"I wish I didn't," Robby mutters, under his breath. </p><p>"Real nice," Luke says, archly. But he goes. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Mr LaRusso's at work when Robby and the tow come in.  That's weird, because it's supposed to be Mrs LaRusso here this weekend, and Robby thought Mr LaRusso was going to meet his dad and the lawyer, but it's late so maybe that's already been and gone. </p><p>"Shit, Robby," Mr LaRusso says, offering him a hand out of the cab. "What happened? Are you all right?" </p><p>It's gratifying that Mr LaRusso doesn't jump to <em> what did you do</em>. Even after all this time, he still doesn't. </p><p>Robby shrugs, keeping down the little warm feeling in his chest; Mr LaRusso knows what he means to Robby, Robby doesn't have to make a thing out of it. "It's what happens when you leave things around Cobra Kai, I guess. But it's okay, Mr L, I think I have enough saved to pay for it."</p><p>"Robby, I fixed your dad's car for free and I don't even like him. Don't worry about it." He looks Robby up and down, stopping on the forehead cut. "Cobra Kai, huh?"</p><p>"It was my fault," Robby says. "I knew it wasn't a good place to leave my car."</p><p>"No way, Robby. You didn't ask for this." Mr LaRusso sighs. "Come here, have a coffee. I'll drive you home."</p><p>"Oh, I couldn't," Robby says. "You're at work, I'll get an Uber."</p><p>"Don't fight me on this, Robby. You look like crap." Mr LaRusso is sincere, earnest. He looks at Robby like he wants to help. It's the kind of thing you can believe. Robby probably shouldn't, but even when Mr LaRusso lets him down he doesn't mean to do it. </p><p>Robby says, "You should see the other guy."</p><p>Mr LaRusso's jaw clenches. "Robby," he says, "I promise that I would love to. You give me a name I'll be there with brimstone, you got it?"</p><p>Robby ducks his head. "Okay."</p><p>Mr LaRusso herds Robby into his office, that kind of dad drive that kicks in when Sam hurts herself or Anthony is nice for two minutes. "Stay here."</p><p>Robby lets himself be pushed into the chair. Mr LaRusso's office is nice, comfortable. There are pictures of Anthony and Sam and Mrs LaRusso and Mr Miyagi on the walls, and a picture of Robby and Sam and Mr LaRusso on the desk. It's funny, Robby thinks that picture might be new. Maybe it's just a Miyagi-do picture; you can see the pond and all the fresh paint they put on the house in the frame.</p><p>Mr LaRusso is back in a second with coffee from the pot, hot and sweet and milky. </p><p>Robby wraps his hands around the paper cup, sipping gently. It's nice that Mr LaRusso hovers, even though it's kind of annoying. At first Robby thought there had to be a catch, that Mr LaRusso had to want something from him, but he doesn't. Robby just matters to him. </p><p>It was pretty fucked up for a while there, when Robby ran away from the LaRussos to his dad. That was Luke's fault, though. Mr LaRusso called Robby's dad because they were all freaked out, and Robby went to his dad's because he didn't know how to give the LaRussos enough time to adjust. </p><p>The important part is that they did adjust. Even though Robby didn't move back in with them they still care about him. Robby really didn't expect that and it still kind of shocks him. </p><p>Mr LaRusso is peering at him, but stealthily, like he's pretending not to do it. </p><p>Robby smiles at him, so he won't freak out. "I'm okay, Mr L," he says. "I wasn't there for the real damage."</p><p>"Well," Mr LaRusso says, "that's what I told my mom when I was your age." But he seems to settle down a little. </p><p>"I wish I had been there," Robby says, thoughtfully. He'd picked the fight to pick a fight but he's good at coming in clutch, when the stakes matter. He's sure he would have figured it out. </p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "I'm glad you weren't there, you hear me? You can fix a car. You can fix a thousand cars. There's only one of you."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. </p><p>Mr LaRusso says, "I won't keep embarrassing you. But you tell me when you want to, okay?" </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. It feels like everything is okay now. Like, yeah, what he asked his dad to do sucked, but it's okay now because everything is back to normal, and that's good. "Hey, where's Mrs LaRusso?" </p><p>"Oh, she's at her mom's for the weekend," Mr LaRusso says. "We're trying to get Anthony to go outside."</p><p>"Good luck with that," Robby says. </p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs. "No kidding. Listen, I have maybe thirty minutes left on the floor. Are you good to hang out here by yourself? I can call Sam."</p><p>"No, it's okay," Robby says. "I think she's doing something." <em> With Demetri </em>. Robby doesn't feel weird about that, it's just, you know, happening. Usually he gets like thirty texts from Sam per hour but he only got a couple today. Which he shouldn't get fucked up about, since it's not like he sent her an essay about Luke or anything. It's just different. </p><p>"All right," Mr LaRusso says. He claps Robby on the shoulder. "Yell if you need anything."</p><p>Robby nods. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Mr LaRusso's Audi is warm and smells like car freshener, but in kind of a nice way. Mr LaRusso plays Speedwagon, just like Robby's dad, which is kind of weird when Robby thinks about it but fine when he doesn't, so he doesn't.</p><p>It's always weird when he parks in Robby's dad's lot, though. Weird like when Sam comes over, but even weirder. Robby's still processing that his dad and Mr LaRusso can exist in the same space at the same time.</p><p>"Thanks for the ride," Robby says. </p><p>"You're always welcome," Mr LaRusso says. "It's fine, I should talk to your dad, anyway."</p><p>"If you're sure," Robby says, jamming his hands into his pockets. He waits for Mr LaRusso to get out so they can walk in together.</p><p>The door is unlocked. Robby wonders if he should have texted his dad, but his dad probably didn't text him, so whatever. They're not great texters but Robby lets his dad know when he won't be home for the night and that's the best they've been in seventeen years, so Robby isn't going to push it. </p><p>There is a man in the apartment. He's sitting on the couch and he looks kind of nervous. A specific kind of nervous that Robby recognises. </p><p>Oh, fuck. </p><p>"Mr L," Robby says, "maybe tomorrow? I think my dad's out."</p><p>"He shouldn't be out," Mr LaRusso says, dogging Robby's heels and then sliding past him into Robby's dad's living room, "for all he knows, Robby, you could be seriously hurt."</p><p>It is nice that Mr LaRusso cares about Robby enough to get mad at Robby's dad on his behalf. On the other hand, Mr LaRusso loves getting mad at Robby's dad. It's one of his favourite non karate activities. </p><p>"Uh, hi," says the guy on the couch. </p><p>Mr LaRusso skids to a stop. "Hello."</p><p>Robby's dad comes out of the kitchen, holding two beers by their necks. "LaRusso? What are you doing here?" He's changed out of the suit, into jeans and a button-down shirt - Miguel's go-to date night outfit, so that makes sense. Robby feels like Miguel could have texted him about this, but hey, he wasn't checking his phone, so who's to say he didn't?</p><p>"I was driving your kid home," Mr LaRusso says. He's bristling like he gets, like an offended meerkat. He turns to the guy. "Hi, I'm Danny LaRusso."</p><p>"Hi," the guy says, getting off the couch. "Ben Song." He offers his hand to Mr LaRusso, and they shake. "I was actually on my way out -" </p><p>Robby's dad looks at him and he looks back. He's handsome, Robby decides. Too good looking for Robby's dad. He's wearing a nice sweater and nice jeans and his hair is brushed back from his face.</p><p>Mr LaRusso is looking at him, too. He's not clenching his fists but he is twitching like he wants to.</p><p>Robby's dad offers Ben a little smile and Ben smiles back. "I'll call you?" he asks.</p><p>Ben nods. "Sure," he says. "Uh, bye." </p><p>And then he goes out the door and it's just Robby and Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso standing in the living room. Huh. </p><p>"I need to talk to you," Mr LaRusso says. </p><p>Robby takes advantage of the staring to snag one of the beers out of his dad's hand and take the guy's place on the couch. "Hi, dad," he says. "Nice to see you, too." </p><p>"Hey, Robby," Robby's dad says, "you ever answer your phone? Jesus." </p><p>"You seem like you did fine without me," Robby says. "You found something to do." He lets himself smirk.</p><p>Robby's dad narrows his eyes. That's a <em> we'll talk about this later, kid</em>, look. Robby kind of likes how it looks on his dad, which is kind of annoying because he really isn't used to seeing it. "All right, LaRusso, what do you want? I'd offer you a Coors but I'm sure you don't want it."</p><p>Mr LaRusso rolls his eyes and takes the beer. "You know Robby's car just got totalled?"</p><p>Robby takes a big sip of his shitty beer. There it is.</p><p>"Robby, <em> what</em>," Robby's dad says. He scans Robby, pegs the scrapes on his forehead, the slight angle he's holding his shoulder at. "What the hell!" </p><p>Robby shrugs. "Not a big deal," he says. "I wasn't the one who totalled it, it was your students, and I wasn't there, so it's fine." </p><p>"See," says Mr LaRusso, struggling to open his bottle. Robby's dad takes it, flips the bottlecap off, hands it back. "You need to deal with this." </p><p>"I'm trying," Robby's dad says. "If your lawyer would <em> do anything </em>-"</p><p>"If you would sign <em> actual contracts</em>," Mr LaRusso snipes back.</p><p>Okay, they're gearing up for it. Robby sighs and pulls out his phone. A couple texts from Sam - she's at Golf n Stuff with Demetri and really wants him to crash their (not a) date; no, she doesn't want him to crash their (now a) date; thanks for all your help Robby! - a couple from Demetri - please help me I think I'm dying; please don't help me I'm not dying; please help me I don't know what to do - and then Miguel, saying, <em> I don't think this is going to just go away. </em>Fuck. He skims his thumb over the pad thinking about what to do. </p><p>From Tory, <em> thanks for coming over today, </em> and then, <em> I feel better knowing you know. Is that stupid? </em></p><p>And then - from that same number he hasn't saved in his phone - <em> heading back to school tomorrow. here till then if you need me, and from there if you change your mind. </em></p><p>Robby swallows, hard, and before he can change his mind taps out <em> you know a guy named will?  </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel says, "We need to talk." His face is firmly, delicately set. His eyes catch Robby's and hold. He's like, fucking handsome. Robby didn't use to think that but now he does and it's stupid that it catches Robby off-guard sometimes.</p><p>Robby says, "Okay." His voice is a little rougher than he meant it to be.</p><p>They are looking at each other carefully. Robby could reach out and touch him but he doesn't. But Miguel doesn't reach out for Robby, either. </p><p>They haven't really talked about the weekend. Robby's dad gave them a ride to school. Robby let Miguel have shotgun. </p><p>He should have talked to his dad last night but he didn't. He just went to bed, got high, and tried to do math. He didn't do any math but he did get his History essay written. Is it good? Who's to say. It does have Hamilton in it, and Robby listened to the soundtrack Miguel downloaded for him, so.</p><p>He doesn't know when Mr LaRusso left. He and Robby's dad were yelling at each other for a while but Robby has good headphones. He can fall asleep through anything. In the morning Robby's dad said, "I'll drive," but he was barely awake to do it. So they didn't talk then. </p><p>Miguel's been waiting but even Miguel will only wait so long. </p><p>Hawk is sitting on the front steps of West Valley High, waiting. He's wearing all black, Robby's dad's snake on the front of his t shirt. </p><p>"Diaz," Robby says, stepping forward. "I gotta handle this."</p><p>Miguel is pissed off. Not at Robby, thank god. He leans into Hawk's face, says, "We had a truce."</p><p>"I didn't break it," Hawk says, getting to his feet. "Your boyfriend did."</p><p>They're snarling at each other, like in the woods, at the fight. Miguel would win, they all know that: Hawk's had three fights in a row, Miguel is rested and well. And Miguel is pissed off. It doesn't make Miguel a worse fighter when he's angry, because that's what Robby's dad taught him to lean into. Not like Robby. Robby needs that fucking balance. </p><p>"We had a truce," Miguel repeats. "You and me. Cobra Kai."</p><p>Robby almost laughs. Miguel Diaz, looking for justice in high school karate. It's sweet and it's so naive it makes Robby's teeth hurt. He doesn't laugh, though. He just stands there and lets Miguel do the leaning in for him. </p><p>No, actually, fuck that. </p><p>"It was my fault, Diaz," he says. "I showed up looking to talk. Should have known that doesn't happen."</p><p>Hawk turns on him. "Oh, looking to talk? Is that what you call it?" But it's what happened.</p><p>"You think I forgot what you did to Miyagi-do? I could call the cops on you." Robby lets himself smirk. He doesn't do it so much anymore, between the LaRussos and Miguel he's trying to be a good person. </p><p>Miguel looks back and forth between them. "What the hell?"</p><p>Robby shrugs. "I'm not gonna," he says. "Don't worry, Miguel, I get that he's your boy." </p><p>Miguel has to hold his hand to Hawk's chest, then. "Don't," he says. And then, to Robby, "What the hell?" He doesn't look mad, just confused. Maybe that's a <em> not yet </em>.</p><p>Robby wonders where Tory is. Probably mad she's missing it. He's feeling out of his body, a little bit. Out of control, maybe. "I didn't mean it like that," he says. "I mean, I didn't - who threw the first punch, anyway?"</p><p>"When you have to ask that," Hawk says. His lip curls up in a sneer.</p><p>That's fair enough. Robby shrugs. "Yeah, sorry you're a maniac."</p><p>Miguel closes his eyes and then opens them. "I swear to god," he says. "Can someone explain to me what happened?"</p><p>"We got in a fight," Hawk says, "and then when I was kicking his ass, your boyfriend ran away. Story of his life, right? So we got even."</p><p>"You are so fucking stupid," Robby says. "Why the hell would you say it?" Maybe his voice is thinner than it should be, maybe he's been fucking wired since he saw the glass on the ground. Maybe that was his fucking car and his dad's psychotic fucking students need to back the fuck off.</p><p>Now Miguel has his hand on Robby's chest. Robby kind of wants to kiss him. He always wants to kiss Miguel. But especially now. "Robby," he says.</p><p>Miguel only ever calls him Robby. Tory calls him a bunch of things - baby, Swayze, sweetheart - and it's nice when she does it. But Miguel only says his name. Makes it sound like something important and special, just for them.</p><p>Hawk looks at Miguel. He looks like he's maybe gonna back down. Like the cogs are turning in that little head of his.</p><p>"You get it?" Robby asks. "You fucked up. That's what happened. You're lucky I'm not a fucking snitch."</p><p>Miguel looks at him, carefully. "You could have said something," he says, softly. "To me."</p><p>It stings. Robby shakes it off like a good hit. "Yeah," he says. "I should have." But - <em> you're in the middle of something very complicated. I didn't want to fuck it up for you. Over me. </em> </p><p>Well: it happened anyway. </p><p>Miguel says, "What do you want? From him?" Calm, clear, but the tension is vibrating through him like the bass at a rave Robby was definitely too young to be at.</p><p>Robby shrugs. "I shouldn't have left," he says. "Let's call it even."</p><p>Hawk narrows his eyes. "All right," he says. </p><p>They are both looking at Miguel. Maybe Hawk wouldn't say it but Robby can: whatever they need to say to get Miguel to calm down, that's what will happen. </p><p>Robby smiles. It's tight but it's not <em> not </em> real. "Cool," he says. "I'm gonna be late for class, so." </p><p>He kisses Miguel's cheek and goes in. Miguel is stiff, but lets him do it.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Sam saved Robby his seat in History. She looks good, wearing a complicated braid and a dress over a white turtleneck, and she tosses him an apple. </p><p>"Thanks," he says, sliding in beside her. If he smiles enough he can shake off the confrontation; being around Sam helps, anyway. She makes him feel settled, like there's somewhere he belongs. "Have a good weekend? I got your texts." </p><p>She punches him in the shoulder. "You could have replied."</p><p>"Eh," he says. "But then how would you have had fun?" </p><p>She rolls her eyes. "You're a sadist sometimes, I hope Miguel and Tory know that."</p><p>He winks at her, exaggerated. "Yeah, they do." It's funny, but she used to not think that was funny. Thank you, Demetri. Or maybe thank you, time. He pulls his stupid shoulder and that hurts too much, fuck. He has to press his hand against it and there's no way around Sam seeing <em> that</em>.</p><p>She frowns at him, that worried LaRusso frown. "What the hell happened this weekend?" </p><p>Robby shakes his head. "Nothing good," he says. </p><p>"Look," Sam says, "you know the guest house is always there, if you -" </p><p>Robby's stomach turns. He hasn't slept there since the thing. The thing that he's not thinking about. "Yeah," he says. She's looking at him with those big eyes so he reaches out for her, pulling her into a hug against his side. "Love you too, LaRusso."</p><p>"Love you, Keene." She tucks her head against his cheek. Her hair is soft and smells like flowers. "Demetri won you a chinchilla at Golf N Stuff, by the way. Her name is Mr Fluffy."</p><p>"Demetri won it, or you won it?" He asks her hair.</p><p>She trembles a little, laughing. "Demetri wanted to win it," she says. "He thinks he needs to prove himself or something."</p><p>"So you won it," Robby says.</p><p>"I think it's cute," she says. "You can put it in with the bonsai." She lets go of him to fish it out of her bag: a little stuffed round ball, dark grey and soft, with big, sweet eyes. It's kind of cute. </p><p>"Thanks," Robby says, holding it by the ears. </p><p>"Mr Fluffy," she says. She grins at him. </p><p>"So it's good?" Robby asks. "You and Game of Thrones?" </p><p>She blushes a little bit. "It's good. But, you know, I miss you. You don't have to like, disappear just because - I didn't stop hanging out with you all the time, and you have a boyfriend <em> and </em> a girlfriend."</p><p>"Oh, are you saying boyfriend now?"</p><p>She hits him in the shoulder, carefully. "I'm just saying," she says. "Okay?"</p><p>"Okay." He lets himself smile though. "Does this mean you forgive me for dating your nemesis?" </p><p>"She's not my nemesis, I don't think about her enough to hate her."</p><p>That's a fucking lie but he'll let her have it. He leans back into his chair. "Double date this weekend? I don't know if you can call it a double date." </p><p>Sam scrunches up her nose. "Maybe you can third wheel first. Just, you know. So he doesn't freak out."</p><p>God, that's so funny. "He really is twitchy."</p><p>She laughs. "Yeah, but he's funny." She looks down at her hands and he can see it there, the caution. She's had bad luck with guys; Robby can say that, because he has, too.</p><p>"Nerd shit," Robby says. "I'm glad someone can keep up with you, because I have to save it for the mat." </p><p>Anyway, then he has to hand in his essay so they stop talking, and she doesn't ask him about his fucking car, so that's a win for the morning, good job, Keene.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk is in Robby's physics class. They're not doing anything fun, because physics is not fun at all. Hawk is good at it, despite his stupid hair. </p><p>Hawk catches him at the end, when Robby's still frowning at his paper, chewing on the end of his pencil. "Listen," Hawk says. "Miguel doesn't want this to be a thing."</p><p>Robby says, "Maybe you shouldn't have trashed my fucking car, then."</p><p>"Maybe you should have taken it like a man," Hawk says. </p><p>Oh, that's not Robby's dad. That's Kreese. Robby can hear that. </p><p>He sits up straight, lets his eyes settle on Hawk's and hold them. It's nice that it's just the two of them, Mr Gonzales up at the front on his phone waiting for everyone to leave. "You know something about that?"</p><p>"We all know something about that," Hawk says. "Except you, because your dad keeps trying to keep you out of it."</p><p>Robby rolls his eyes. "Miguel kicked your ass," he says. "Snake rules mean you shut up. Isn't that right?" </p><p>Hawk glowers. That means: <em> yes. </em></p><p>"You're welcome," Robby says. "I gotta get out now, so. You wanna move out of the way or?" </p><p>Hawk steps aside. His stupid bright blue hair is fading at the tips.</p><p>Tory's waiting outside in the hallway, leaning against the lockers. She glares at Hawk and then at Robby, and then she says, "Miguel told me what happened."</p><p>Hawk says, "Come on, how's it my fault?" </p><p>She says, "Shut the fuck up, man. You know I hate having to be the babysitter here, I have a kid brother for that."</p><p>Robby raises both eyebrows. "Tor, I didn't do anything."</p><p>"Yeah, I know," she says. "But I also know that you know what you're doing when you do anything. Or when you don't do anything. So." She narrows her eyes at him.</p><p>"That's bullshit," Robby says. </p><p>"Life's not fair, baby," she says, reaching out to touch his cheek. Then, lightly, the kind of light that can't possibly be sincere, "Listen, I've only told two people about you know, my thing. So I'd appreciate it if you would hold off on trying to kill each other."</p><p>Both of them freeze up. Robby shouldn't, because he <em> knew, </em>but it's different to hear her say that, and to look like that. Brittle and furious and tired and scared.</p><p>Hawk says, "You told him?" He looks worse than when Robby kicked him in the chest. </p><p>"Yeah," Tory says. She folds her arms over her chest. "Because I trust him, and I trust you. So."</p><p>Robby swallows. "Okay."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel and Robby are in study hall together but they give up on it without a word. Miguel is just walking and Robby is just following him, and then they are under the bleachers together, and Miguel is kissing him.</p><p>Miguel's hands are hot under Robby's shirt, pushing it up, pushing Robby against the cement column, gently but without give. Robby kisses back, lets himself fall into the feeling, into Miguel's thigh against his. He tangles his hand in the back of Miguel's shirt. It feels so good. It's always so fucking good to kiss him. </p><p>"Don't do this," Miguel whispers into Robby's mouth. "You can flip out, but flip out to me. Or Tory, or Sam. Do it with me, though."</p><p>"I can't," Robby says. He pulls back, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth. "I -" None of the secrets are his, but all of them are.</p><p>"Your dad's fucked up. I get it." Soft, careful. Not like Luke at all but Robby still feels himself shrink. </p><p>"Robby," Miguel says. "Hey, what's going on? Hey." His hands catch Robby's hips and it feels too hot, miserable. Like when Luke used to-</p><p>But Luke isn't here, Miguel is here. Miguel is here, with Robby. </p><p>"It's fine," Robby says. "It's <em>fine</em>." <em> It will be</em>. He'll make it fine. </p><p>Miguel settles onto the gross dirt and Robby fits himself between his legs, pressing his back against Miguel's chest. Miguel smells like Old Spice and he feels warm and good. He's leaner than Robby but wiry, strong. Solid. </p><p>They don't look at each other. Or, if Miguel is looking at Robby Robby can't see him, so. </p><p>He looks down at Miguel's hand, pressed flat against his chest. It feels good to have him there. But it felt good when Luke held him, too. </p><p>"Hey, did you know my dad had a guy come over last night?" </p><p>Miguel stops petting his hair. "I didn't know he came over."</p><p>"You knew there was a guy, though." </p><p>Miguel swallows. Robby feels it against his back. "Yeah."</p><p>Robby anchors his hand on Miguel's knee so he can turn around and they can look at each other. "He seemed nice."</p><p>"Good," Miguel says. His eyes fall to Robby's mouth. Robby still has a cut lip from yesterday. "He was the only one that didn't open with a dick pic."</p><p>The laugh startles itself out of Robby. "Of course."</p><p>"I didn't want to spook him," Miguel says. "So."</p><p>Robby sighs. "Did you spook yourself?" </p><p>They've talked about it, because Miguel loves talking about things. Robby is the first boy Miguel ever kissed but now that he thinks about it there have been boys he looked at for too long. There have been times he dragged a hold too long at Cobra Kai, or let himself go down too fast. </p><p>Robby has kissed significantly more boys. Robby has fucked significantly more men. He tried to say it nicely but it was hard to make it nice. <em> My boyfriend liked to watch me have sex with other men. </em>Not really something you can make pleasant. </p><p>It's weird because it's not like that with Robby and Miguel and Tory. Robby did that because Luke asked him to, or, Luke didn't give him any other options. But Robby <em> likes </em>Tory even if it's different from the way he likes Miguel. The three of them make sense to him, not just for Miguel but for Robby and Tory, too. </p><p>"No," Miguel says, defensively. "I know what porn looks like."</p><p>"<em> Okay </em>," Robby drawls. "Sure." He presses his nose against Miguel's cheek. </p><p>"I'm not like, a pussy," Miguel says, defensive. "Just because I'm a virgin. You know that." </p><p>He does. "You're always babysitting my dad's Internet shit, you couldn't pick a dick that matched?" </p><p>"Robby!" He's blushing, a dull redness blooming over the curve of his cheeks. "You know I only do that so he doesn't start buying gold so the dinosaurs don't get him or whatever."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby says. "Your noble calling." He smiles so Miguel knows he's only teasing, tangles his fingers in Miguel's free hand to pull their joined fingers against his thigh. "He did seem nice. I'm glad my dad talks to you about it."</p><p>There's the wince. "He'll get there," Miguel says, apologetic. "It doesn't help that you just run away, either."</p><p><em> Hey</em>. "What?" Robby sits up straight but Miguel keeps their hands twined together. "I don't-" </p><p>"As soon as Sensei looks uncomfortable you bail, Robby. I get it, you're both adjusting. It's weird that your dad, who you're already fucked up about, is on dating apps. Let alone dating apps looking for <em> men</em>. It's weird when my mom goes on them, and she's been doing it since I was like, nine." He looks so serious, so earnest. This is how Miguel gets and it makes him so easy to forgive. </p><p>Robby says, "It's not for me, Diaz. It's for him. It's already - he's so fucked up. He can trust you and he can't trust me and maybe we'll fix it eventually but right now we probably shouldn't worry about it. You know?" </p><p>Miguel sighs. "Robby," he says, again. "Okay. Sure." He kisses Robby's cheek carefully. "The guy was nice?" </p><p>Robby lets himself sink back against Miguel's chest. "Yeah. He looked like he had a job, even."</p><p>Miguel whistles, low. "Who's the man? I'm the man."</p><p>Robby laughs. The tight ball in his chest unwinds a little. "So, uh. The lawyer thing didn't go great?" </p><p>Miguel's other arm comes around Robby's waist, pulling him in closer. It's crazy how Robby feels every atom that's pressed against him. "You could say that." He sighs. "Sensei's paperwork was uh, really bad. And the dojo lease was a handshake thing. So Mr LaRusso's lawyer said there isn't that much he can do, because commercial rental law is biased towards the landlord. Then Sensei threw his briefcase at the wall, so I figured it would be better to distract him."</p><p>"Makes sense," Robby says, rolling it around in his head. </p><p>"Yeah. The lawyer said the best thing to do would be to talk it out with Se- with Kreese."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. </p><p>Miguel tucks his face into Robby's shoulder. Mumbles, "Yeah," barely intelligible, into his neck. </p><p>"Missed you too," Robby says, realising it's true. It's been a whole weekend, longer, because of all this shit that's ultimately his dad's fault. Robby's dad strikes again. "I should have called you about the car."</p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says, still into his shirt. A deep breath, like he likes how Robby smells or something, and then he sits up a bit. "Why were you starting shit with him, anyway?" Unspoken: <em> you were so mad at the party.  </em></p><p>"Technically," Robby says, for what feels like the hundredth time, "I was just in the area. He threw the first punch. That's what my dad taught you guys."</p><p>"Hey," Miguel says. Now it's gonna be about the party, Robby can see his jaw set like that, look at the wheels turn behind his dark, lovely, eyes. "All right. You didn't like how I handled that, but then you went and did it yourself?" </p><p>"Well, I got my ass kicked, so I wouldn't say I handled it." It's easy to make it a joke. </p><p>"Are you hurt? You can take him blindfolded, on a bad day." Earnest as ever, sincere as a heart attack. </p><p>"That's sweet." Robby shrugs. "I wasn't really feeling it, I guess. Adrenaline didn't hit." The thing is, Miguel doesn't <em> really </em> know how Robby fights. Sure, they spar, but it's <em> friendly </em> when they do that, the stakes are low. Robby does kata at Miyagi-do and it's been three-quarters of a year since the All Valley, six months since Robby and Sam wiped the floor of the mall food court with Hawk's face. Miguel knows what kata looks like and he knows that Robby knows how to take him down. He doesn't know, really, what Robby looks like when the chips are down.</p><p>Or maybe Robby's just thinking that. </p><p>Miguel hums, low in his throat. "So why'd you do it?"</p><p>And that's the thing. Robby doesn't <em> know</em>. Robby used to get mad all the time, and he knew what to do when that happened: start shit. It was why he got along with Luke's dirtbag friends - not the ones from school, not the ones going places. The ones like him, starting shit, making it worse. Luke used to tolerate it but only so far, and when he left it was easy to lean into it. Maybe to spite Luke, maybe because Robby just liked it. Either way, there's a reason he was where he was when he met Mr LaRusso - going nowhere fast, except petty crime.</p><p>Robby doesn't really get mad anymore. There isn't a reason to, you know? Like, he gets mad at his dad, but he's always mad at his dad. There's no reason for him to get mad at Miguel, because Miguel is perfect. Miguel is the best thing that's ever happened to Robby, tied with karate and the LaRussos. Despite all the fucking baggage that Robby is and brings, Miguel is just - Miguel just <em> likes </em>him. Maybe other words that start with l. </p><p>Maybe he was freaking out about Tory. That makes sense. He words-beginning-with-l Tory, too. </p><p>"I hate the way he fights," Robby says. Maybe that's close enough to the truth. "I really fucking hate it."</p><p>"I fight like that," Miguel says. Not in a mean way, not accusing. Just an observation.</p><p>"I don't hate you," Robby says. He kisses the corner of Miguel's mouth and Miguel lets him. "Obviously."</p><p>"Obviously," Miguel echoes. He rubs his thumb across Robby's hip. "Me and Tory were going at each other for a while, there." </p><p>"I'm not, like, the child of divorced parents," Robby says. "I can handle it when you fight." Technically his parents never got married, so. No divorce. Take that.</p><p>"We talked about it," Miguel says. He adjusts his seat, gently steering Robby so they stay close together. It's nice when Miguel touches Robby like that, like he's supposed to. Like Robby is something he's entitled to.</p><p><em> Of course you talked about it</em>, Robby thinks. He has large feelings that begin with l about Miguel but god, he talks so much. About everything. </p><p>"I get why she was mad," Miguel says, tracing the edge of Robby's mouth with the tip of a finger. "Because to her it was like I was betraying Hawk. You know how she is about, like, loyalty. Shit like that." </p><p>"But you were just being loyal to my dad." It's easier when there's just one Cobra here. It doesn't feel like Robby's being yanked in two directions. </p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. "Still." He shakes his head. "Hawk's supposed to be on board now. So as long as that lasts, we're good." </p><p>Robby raises both eyebrows, to indicate what he thinks about any truce that relies on Eli Moskowitz. Robby is friends with Demetri. </p><p>Miguel reaches forward, pushes Robby's hair back. It feels nice to have his hands in there. It feels like he wants Robby, not just the nice parts of Robby. All of them, even when his hair sticks up and gets messy. </p><p>Robby says, sounding it out, "I really hate the way you fight."</p><p>"Okay," Miguel says. Slowly, like he's thinking about it, too. "And we said that you might as well be a Cobra." </p><p>Robby doesn't want to say anything, so he doesn't. He just turns his face so he's looking into the fabric of Miguel's shirt, which is soft and smells clean and good, because Miguel's grandma does their laundry and it never gets left too long to get mouldy. </p><p>"Oh," Miguel says. He wraps his arms around Robby and pulls him in, close. "You're not a Cobra," he says, gently, sweetly, with so much kindness Robby feels tears prick at the edges of his stupid eyes. "I know that. She knows that." </p><p>"I don't," Robby protests, but he doesn't have anything else to say. He just got in a fight with Hawk, and Hawk won, and it wasn't supposed to happen. Because Robby was supposed to be a snake just waiting to realize his own potential, and then it hamstrung him. He was <em> weak</em>. He wasn't used to fighting like that, and he needed - </p><p>He needed to be saved. </p><p>"I'm sorry," Robby says, quietly. "I shouldn't have." There's a low, miserable, hollow pit in his stomach. He doesn't want to lift his head; he doesn't want Miguel to look at him. He doesn't want Miguel to see him like this, even though Miguel has, and held him tightly.</p><p>"He shouldn't have," Miguel says, firmly. "You didn't throw the first punch. And fuck, he shouldn't have touched your car." He doesn't sound disappointed, or mad, or any of those things that Luke would be.</p><p>God, Robby has to fucking stop thinking about him.</p><p>"Mr LaRusso said he'd fix it for me," Robby says. He lifts his head but only enough to look over Miguel's shoulder, into the concrete. "He's never surprised by any of your shit."</p><p>"Yeah, well," Miguel says. Shakes his head. "Fucking Kreese. Hawk won't spit it out, but I'm sure this goes back to him." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. It feels like something neutral, something to agree on. Something that isn't about Robby having a fucking black hole at the centre of him. He lets his face turn back to Miguel's: Miguel's kind, even, handsome face, that Robby always wants to kiss. Miguel looking at Robby like he's <em> Robby</em>, always. "You know him better than I do."</p><p>Miguel sighs, staring at Robby, like he wishes Robby had said something else. But he doesn't complain, just leans in to kiss Robby's forehead. </p><p><em> L-word, </em> Robby thinks.</p><p>They sit there for a while, not speaking. Robby wants Miguel to kiss him but he doesn't want to kiss Miguel. It's one of those moments, where Robby just wants to be wanted. But he's comfortable, too, not moving, being held. That's being wanted, too. </p><p>He's going to say something, like maybe about going back to class, when Tory swings in in a blur of blonde hair and flannel. </p><p>"Hey," Tory says, eyes bright. "You're supposed to text me if we're cuddling on school premises."</p><p>Robby says, "Yeah, yeah," and holds out his arm for her, so she can balance on his lap with her legs stretched out across both of them. "We were having kind of a fight, actually." </p><p>"Oh yeah? Anything juicy?" She scrapes her hair back into a messy ponytail, missing a big chunk that falls out at the nape of her neck.</p><p>"Just the car," Miguel says. "And the snake shit." He's covering for Robby's dad. That's smart. Robby's dad likes Tory but he wouldn't tell her. Not yet. And it's not something Tory would care about. Maybe she'd care that Miguel's stressed about it. But not really any other way.</p><p>Tory bites her lip. "I actually wanted to show you something." She tenses up and both of them feel it; it's like a domino falling, because Miguel is looking worried and Robby is doing his best not to.</p><p>"Tor?" </p><p>She sighs, reaching into her back pocket for her phone. "Don't freak out," she says. "It's not, like, a big deal. It's kind of a big deal. It sucks a lot. But -"</p><p>The picture on the screen is clearly Tory. Her hair's down and she's wearing makeup and she's not wearing anything else. There's a girl there, kneeling in front of her. They're on a bed. </p><p>Robby reaches for the phone. Takes it out of Tory's limp fingers and turns it face down on the dirt. </p><p>She lets him. "I told Robby," she says, quietly. "Not because I don't trust you. Because I didn't know what to say, or how to say it. Hawk and I went to see Beth, the day that everything went bad, and she told me it might happen. And that's why-" She turns her face away, thumps backwards onto the dirt. "Are you -"</p><p>"What?" Miguel says. He looks at Robby. "Are you saying -"</p><p>"He's not mad," Robby says, quickly, because Miguel's brain needs a second and Tory doesn't have it. It's not Miguel's fault; he just doesn't live in a world where people are bad. Not bad like that. "I'm not mad. Nobody's mad at anyone, except for the fucking asshole who put this online. Okay?" </p><p>She takes a deep breath. Looks at Miguel. </p><p>Miguel blinks. "Yeah, fuck. Of course I'm not - that's so fucked up. Whoever did this-" It hits him then. Robby watches it roll over him like the start of a fight, the fury, the horror, and the sadness on her behalf. "Tory, oh my god, come <em> here</em>." </p><p>She closes her eyes, sitting very still for a second, and then her eyes are open, enormous and blue, welling up. "<em>Fuck</em>," she says. "Just- <em> fuck </em>."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk's in the computer lab already. "They're coming down," he says, when Tory comes in. "I'm sending takedowns."</p><p>Tory squeezes Robby's hand. "Thanks." Quiet, tired. She doesn't sound like this often. Usually she is bright with fury even about things that there's no point being mad about.</p><p>Hawk looks at Robby and Robby looks back. Miguel is on Tory's other side, and Robby doesn't need to look at him to know what his face looks like: worn out, worried. </p><p>Hawk nods. "Okay," he says. </p><p>Robby offers Hawk the best smile he can manage. It's thin like the canned chicken soup he used to make himself when he was sick. "Thanks," he says, echoing Tory. "Anything we can do?" </p><p>"Yeah," Hawk says, "actually. If you can uh - Tory, if you don't mind?" She shakes her head, no. "I'll send you a list of clones, they need individual takedown letters. It's a pain."</p><p>Robby squeezes Tory's hand. He thinks Miguel is doing the same on her other side. "Fuck," he says. </p><p>"Yeah," Hawk says. He doesn't look like the kid in the parking lot, he just looks worried, strained. Past pissed off and into exhausted. "It's just grunt work."</p><p>"Just," Tory says, laughing under her breath. "Fuck." </p><p>"We have to get it in case it goes viral," Hawk says, gently. "You know how it goes."</p><p>Robby says, "We can do it without you. Just go have lunch or go to class or whatever."</p><p>She shakes her head. She's pale because it's winter but even paler now. Almost grey. "No," she says. "It's okay. I - it'll go faster if I help."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk must have something going from his previous life as a nerd because nobody bothers them. A couple classes come in but they use the computer lab on the opposite side of the hall.</p><p>Robby's eyes hurt.</p><p>"That's it," Hawk says. He doesn't sound happy. Barely even relieved. "They'll come back, but. Gone for now."</p><p>Tory rubs her eyes. "Thank you," she says. </p><p>Hawk is only looking at her. "We're gonna find this guy," he says, low, firm. "He's gonna regret being born."</p><p>Tory laughs, a slow, sick hiccuping sound. "I honestly don't care," she says. "I just want it to fucking stop."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is supposed to go to Miyagi-do after school. He offers to stay with Tory and Miguel, even Hawk, do something else, but Tory shakes her head and says, "I think I need to go to Cobra Kai today." And that's fair, even if it stings. </p><p>She does lean up and kiss his cheek, even if she can't quite meet his eyes.</p><p>Sam's waiting by her car, with Demetri. He's been texting her but not enough, obviously, because she greets him with, "What the hell, Robby?" </p><p>Demetri leans back against the car. Just watching, not like he's ready to run, but more like he could step in if he needed to. Good job, Demetri, Robby thinks. Not that he'd stand a chance if Robby and Sam ever fought.</p><p>It's not vanity for Robby to understand that he's just, fucking good at karate. He spent years getting his balance on his skateboard and it falls into place when he trains with Sam and Mr LaRusso. He understands it, intuitively, easily. But Sam's been training since she was a little kid, so what she lacks in Robby's raw talent she makes up for in intellect, strategy, muscle memory.</p><p>"Sorry," he says. "Snake shit."</p><p>She bites her lip. "Robby," she says, slowly, carefully, like she's feeling out all the words, "you know this is like. Your last chance at school, right? I don't know if my mom could fix it again."</p><p>Robby doesn't flinch but he hates when she gets like this. It's not her fault and she doesn't know she's doing it, and if Robby had the balls to tell her she'd probably stop. But he does owe her, and her family, pretty much everything that's good in his life right now. </p><p>That's happened to him before. Owing someone. It didn't end well for him; it ended with Robby alone on his mom's couch, feeling hollowed out inside.</p><p>"Yeah," he says. "I know. I promise it won't happen again."</p><p>She purses her lips, looks like her mom. "I got you all the homework, so I think you'll be fine. We said you weren't feeling well and probably were with the nurse."</p><p>He does love her. She is a good friend. </p><p>Demetri grins at him. "More Shakespeare," he says. "You'd never guess, but he's still dead."</p><p>"Awesome," Robby says. </p><p>Sam squints at him and then steps forward, pulling him into a quick, easy hug. "Hi," she whispers. "You don't have to tell me about the snake shit. But I love you."</p><p>"You too," he says. He wants to go limp, collapse into her arms. "I know you always have my back."</p><p>"Always," she says. </p><p>"Me, too," Demetri offers, in his wavering voice. </p><p>Robby grins. "Thanks, man." And then, "Are we going, or what?"</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's good to be at Miyagi-do. The air is different here, maybe because of all the plants - as much as Robby looks after all his bonsai and the leafy palms Tory got him as a joke, his bedroom isn't actually outside where things live - and it's really fucking nice to just stand still, amongst it. </p><p>Sam looks at him carefully. It's a matter of time before she pushes, he knows her - it's not a bad thing, really, because like his dad Robby is exceptionally gifted not just at karate but at pretending he doesn't have any feelings at all until they bubble out and try to kill him - so he's gonna have to come up with something that will satisfy her, without throwing Tory under the bus. </p><p>Now Demetri's hovering, too. Which is hilarious because Demetri is like ten feet tall and looks like a praying mantis, so when he is peering at Robby Robby pictures him simply falling over. Still nice to have him nearby.</p><p>Mr LaRusso's a little out of it. It's supposed to be a kata day, which Robby could use to cool his head, but Mr LaRusso keeps checking his phone, messing up his instructions. Sam and Robby look at each other. </p><p>Finally Robby says, "It's okay, I'll do it," gently clapping his hand on Mr LaRusso's shoulder. He looks relieved, grateful. "Thanks."</p><p>Sam breaks off from the group, following her dad around the back of the dojo. He nods at her and turns back to the group.</p><p>It's good to be in his body. He's sore, yeah, but that doesn't matter. It's just a part of what being in a body is. </p><p>He doesn't have to think about Tory, or Hawk, or Miguel, or Luke, or Kreese, or his dad. It's not that none of it matters, because it all does. But here it's about balance, and he can let the other things fill him up, the things that don't make his stomach twist: the clear air, the sound of the water, the fluid motion of his body. This is not easy but it is <em> good</em>, and for a long time Robby didn't understand that those things could coexist, that things could be hard and not hurt you, that you could become strong without crawling over broken glass. </p><p>Robby is getting better every day. He forgets this, but it is true.</p><p>They split off into pair work after the warmup, so Robby leaves Demetri in charge and heads around back to find Sam. Sam and her dad are sitting next to each other, legs stretched out on the grass. </p><p>"Hey, Robby," she says. "Good warmup."</p><p>"Thanks," he says. He doesn't want to sit down so he just ends up hovering, like Demetri. "Is, uh, is everything okay?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso shakes his head, puts on his customer smile. It's super bright but it doesn't hit his eyes. "It's fine," he says. "I'm just waiting for your dad, I think he's gonna bring some kids over in a minute."</p><p>"He's <em> what?</em>" Robby says. </p><p>"Cobra Kai is not going to work right now," Mr LaRusso says. "Obviously. It's not like we don't have the space."</p><p>Sam screws up her mouth at Robby, like, <em> I know, I said it, too.  </em></p><p><em> Especially now, </em>Robby thinks. He loves Tory and Miguel, and he knows Hawk at least cares about Tory enough to break his fist for her if she asked, but they're all on edge and they don't respond well to that. Miyagi-do is not equipped for a full Cobra Kai obstacle course slash kill dungeon. </p><p>Robby says, "All of them? There's like, a lot of them, Mr LaRusso." </p><p>Mr LaRusso shrugs. "I think it'll be less," he says. "You would know more than I would - from Diaz?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso is a little bit weird about Robby's relationship, which was a little bit bad for Robby at the beginning but they've both kind of settled into it. Robby's pretty sure Mr LaRusso would prefer it if he and Sam got back together, though. Which isn't like, a bad thing, because Robby's life would be kind of great if he and Sam would work like that, but they don't. </p><p>Mr LaRusso has been less weird about it lately, better at asking Robby about Miguel and Tory without throwing in something about Cobra Kai karate. Robby thought maybe it was because he and Robby's dad were getting along better. He thought it was like, a good thing. </p><p>It is a good thing, for Robby. If Robby remembers that his business is his business and Mr LaRusso's private life is none of his, things can balance out. </p><p>It's nice, though, that Mr LaRusso's only objection was which karate school Miguel and Tory attend, not that Miguel is a boy and Tory is not the only non-Robby person in Robby's relationship. </p><p>Robby puts his hands in the pockets of his joggers. They're the ones Luke gave him, and it's unfortunate that they are, but they're soft and comfortable and great to work out in outside in January. "I don't know," he says. "I think the students are on my dad's side. But it's complicated." </p><p>"Right," Mr LaRusso says. He rubs his hand over his jaw. Is that stubble? Mr LaRusso never has stubble. Robby's dad teases him about it all the time, that he'll go to his grave looking like a baby. </p><p>Sam tilts her head to the side. "Well," she says, "maybe we should finish our session early so they can have the whole space. Assuming they can be trusted not to trash everything." She looks at Robby, like a challenge.</p><p>Robby would roll his eyes but she's nervous and she doesn't know about anything that happened today, so. He can say nice things about his boyfriend and girlfriend for once. "I think the only one to really worry about is Hawk," he says. "If my dad's there he can probably keep him under control. It's the other guy that's the problem."</p><p>Mr LaRusso nods. "I'm going to give him a call," he says. "Just to see if there's any trouble. You two can go back to the class." He gets to his feet and continues to walk, over to the pond.</p><p>Sam twists her mouth and takes the hand Robby offers her to pull herself to her feet. "He and my mom are in therapy," she says, quietly. "That's why he's being weird." </p><p>"Oh," Robby says. </p><p>She dusts her legs off. "It's normal," she says, not looking at him. "Lots of people do it. It's supposed to be good for you even when everything is fine. It's just - usually they would tell me something like that together. But this time they didn't."</p><p>Robby's heart is too tired to leap into his throat. It's been a day; it's been a series of days. He just sighs.</p><p>"I keep thinking I should have noticed," Sam says. "But I was so busy with Demetri. It just all happened at once, you know? And they're perfect. They've always been perfect."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He shakes his head.  "They're like, the perfect marriage, Sam. I'm sure it's just one of those things. Like, Moon's always saying, someone's Venus is in retrograde or whatever."</p><p>She sighs, shakes her head. "You're right. Thanks."</p><p>The Cobra Kai numbers are low. Monday is an advanced class, one of the ones Robby's dad makes no money on but loves the most to teach, because it's just him watching Miguel and Hawk kick the shit out of each other and drunkenly heckling them.</p><p>This time Robby's dad is sober. Robby figured it was even odds, but even Robby's dad doesn't drive blackout anymore. He's not proud of his dad, because he doesn't do that, but it's not disappointing. </p><p>It's just Robby and Sam and Demetri left over from Miyagi-do; Mr LaRusso took Robby's advice and sent everyone else home early. He tried to send Demetri home, which Robby personally thinks would have been smart, but Demetri shrugged and said, "someone would need to drive me, my mom's at work," and then smiled his low key Demetri smile. Not quite a smirk but not a full on smile, either. </p><p>Sam shrugged and gave him a soda and now they're all sitting on the steps of the house, with Mr LaRusso, watching Robby's dad herd his students into the yard. Their yard. </p><p>It feels <em> wrong</em>. Miyagi-do was built in opposition to Cobra Kai. Robby knows because he was there, getting splinters and straining his dislocated shoulder, working off the sting of yet another betrayal from his shitty fucking dad. Robby remembers the fury that Cobra Kai unleashed, the danger that it let run wild. He knows what it is. He knows that Miyagi-do is here to prevent it from ever overrunning. </p><p>But - </p><p>Miyagi-do is about balance.</p><p>Robby learned something from all his time with Tory and Miguel. He got his ass kicked because he tried to be only Cobra Kai, but he's been stronger since they got together. Partly because they spar together, partly because - well. It's hard to hate the things about him that are like his dad when Miguel loves them, and they make Miguel strong. </p><p>He doesn't think about this a lot. It feels too big, too important, like Robby's whole life might be shifting. Not that Robby ever had a five year plan or anything. It just feels like <em>gravity</em> is different. Or the sky might become a new colour. Something like that. Like how when the LaRussos took Robby in he suddenly had a future, a horizon where he had only ever seen a brick wall.</p><p>Miguel jogs up to them, bright-eyed, in a hooded tank and leggings. Robby lets himself look at Miguel's arms, his collarbone. The exhaustion of the afternoon has faded, the second wind for karate Robby knows all too well kicking in. "Hey," he says. It's an easy even smile for all of them, but it's especially for Robby. </p><p>Robby smiles back. Keeps that feeling in his chest, warm and good. Despite everything. </p><p>"Hey," he says. "Welcome to Miyagi-do."</p><p>"Thanks for having us," Miguel says. "We appreciate it."</p><p>First student to first student, Robby thinks. He gets up so they can bow to each other. He's gratified to see Miguel look at his mouth, too. </p><p>"Yeah, okay," Tory says. She bows to the dojo, a moment for calmness and then she's draping herself over Miguel's shoulder. "We promise not to break anything, LaRusso. It's decent of you to let us train here."</p><p>"Not my call," Sam says. She holds it for a second, then she shrugs. "My dad told me it was complicated at your dojo. It's not like we don't have the space." Sam is good at pity, when she wants to be. She can make it sincere, kind. It will always be pity but it doesn't have to sting. </p><p>Robby says, "I'm glad you're here. It's nice you get to see the pond, for once."</p><p>"The one you drank half of, right?" Tory smiles. That doesn't make it to her eyes.</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He gets up, steps forward. It is weird to have them here, where his calmness is, but. It was bound to happen sometime. </p><p>Tory lets him reach forward, so his fingertips brush her cheek. "I'm okay," she says. </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "I'm happy to see you." And he is. It's strange but not wrong. Just new. </p><p>Miguel turns his face to the gate. Robby follows his eyes to where Mr LaRusso is leaning on the fence and talking to Robby's dad. Mr LaRusso looks different. Brighter. Like all the tiredness of before has fallen away.</p><p>Robby's dad looks better, too. Like, he still looks like Robby's dad, so like a raccoon someone pulled out of a dumpster by its tail, but maybe a raccoon that someone has washed. Or one that doesn't have mange. </p><p>That is to say, Robby's dad is shifting from bare foot to bare foot, but he's smiling while Mr LaRusso explains where the mats are, and it's a real smile, a good one. Mr LaRusso claps him on the shoulder and breaks away, coming back to the house. </p><p>"Hello Mr Diaz, Miss Nichols," he says, bowing to them; Tory scrambles away from Miguel so they bow back, in time. "I think your Sensei is ready to start class." </p><p>"Ah, right," Miguel says. "Thank you for having us, Mr LaRusso."</p><p>Mr LaRusso nods at him. "I did have some conditions," he says. "Because of my insurance. So maybe let your sensei run through them before you thank me."</p><p>"Ah," Miguel begins. He shuts his mouth. </p><p>"We'll just go and do that," Tory says, grabbing Miguel's wrist. "See you later, Robby. Mr LaRusso."</p><p>Mr LaRusso scratches his head as Miguel and Tory head down to the lawn, where Hawk and Aisha are waiting. "Sorry," he says. "Couldn't resist."</p><p>Robby says, "That's okay, Mr LaRusso."</p><p>Mr LaRusso doesn't trust Miguel, because he dated Sam and that ended badly, and because he cheated Robby out of the All Valley, and because he is Robby's dad's first and best student. These are all valid reasons not to trust Miguel, but Robby has tucked them all away in the back of his mind, where he knows they happened but allows more recent things to take over. Like: the way Miguel lets Robby sprawl all over him when they're sleeping, so his hair gets in Miguel's face and sometimes his knee gets in Miguel's kidney and when Robby wakes up Miguel is still, always, smiling. </p><p>(Luke used to wake him up so he would move. Which is like, not unfair. He probably does kick a lot in his sleep.)</p><p>Mr LaRusso is nice to Miguel because Robby cares about him, which is nice somewhere deep in Robby, like how Sam and Tory don't shove each other into tables anymore. Not like how Robby picked a fight with Hawk, though. That was not a compromise. But Mr LaRusso doesn't <em> trust </em> Miguel, and maybe he never will.</p><p>But it does seem like he trusts Robby's dad, now, at least a little. So.</p><p>Demetri says, "Maybe we should, uh, give them a minute?" </p><p>Hawk is down there, too. Robby didn't know if he would come, but of course, with Tory, how could he not? It's easy to say you're fearless and don't believe in mercy until you sit there with your friend, scrolling terrible shit about her until your eyes hurt. The spikes of his mohawk flutter in the breeze as they warm up.</p><p>Demetri didn't say anything to him and he didn't say anything to Demetri. Robby knows Demetri, he knows it must have stung, but it's better than the alternative. Robby does not feel like repainting <em> yet again </em> if someone gets kicked through the fence.</p><p>There are seven Cobra Kai students, and then Robby's dad. Robby doesn't know all their names. He did that on purpose, because Cobra Kai isn't his and he doesn't want it to be. Parts of it, maybe: but he chose Miyagi-do, and like his dad chose to stay gone for sixteen years, Robby chooses Daniel LaRusso's karate every day. </p><p>"Yeah," Mr LaRusso says, thoughtfully. "We can see them from the window. We'll hear it if anything happens. I think I put some hot chocolate in here, anyway, we could all use a snack." </p><p>Sam catches the sleeve of Robby's shirt. It's Miguel's, and it even smells like him a little. Robby doesn't mean to keep stealing his clothes but he just hasn't had time to go to the mall, really, and they're close enough in height and size, and Miguel doesn't mind. Miguel probably likes it, because Robby likes it, it makes him feel grounded and also warm, all the way down his spine.</p><p>Robby lets her do it, so they can walk in together.</p><p>"So," Demetri says. "Sensei Kreese, huh? He's the reason Eli's such a psycho?"</p><p>"I wouldn't go that far," Robby says. "No offense, I think the psycho was already there."</p><p>Demetri sighs. "Yeah," he says. His eyes drift to the window. "I feel really stupid, all the time. You know? Because I couldn't keep up. Even though I know it's dumb." </p><p>"Oh," Sam says. Her big eyes do their big eye thing. "Demetri." </p><p>He chews his lip. "It's not a big deal," he says. "I mean, it's a big deal to me, obviously, because my entire life I only ever had one friend and he tried to kill me like, twice, until Robby's sex life sealed the truce. But it's not a big deal to anyone else. I mean, it shouldn't be."</p><p>Sam tucks her hair behind her ear. "You know," she says. "You matter to us."</p><p>Demetri blinks. "Well, I'm glad you would say that. It's nice. But-"</p><p>Robby smiles despite himself, reaches up to slug Demetri on the shoulder, very gently. "You do," he says. "I'd be failing math without you."</p><p>Demetri says, "I think you might still be failing math." </p><p>"I'm sorry, what?" Mr LaRusso looks up from the Keurig. "Robby?" </p><p>"I'm not," Robby says, defensive. "I'm doing extra credit." Or, eventually he will be. He was doing fine at school for a while, it's just that things are not normal. He thinks that's like, fair. </p><p>"Okay, well," Mr LaRusso says. "If you need to cut your hours here or at the shop, that's fine, school comes first." </p><p>It's such a mindless dad thing to say. Just the kind of thing you say offhand when you have a kid. </p><p>Or, Robby assumes that's the kind of thing you say when you have a kid, because it's how Mr LaRusso talks to Sam and Anthony, and sometimes Robby. </p><p>"I will," Robby says. "Thanks, Mr LaRusso." </p><p>Mr LaRusso smiles at him, a distracted easy smile. "Okay, hot chocolate for everyone, I'm going to sit outside and stare, if all of you come with me it'll be too obvious so just stay put, and I'll yell if I need backup. Okay?" </p><p>"I think you could take them all," Robby says, loyally. </p><p>"That's very sweet of you, Robby," Mr LaRusso says. "See, Sam? This is what I'm talking about."</p><p>So Robby and Sam and Demetri sit on the tatami around the low table in their socks, drinking hot chocolate. They can hear the Cobra Kai sounds from outside - the <em> hai </em> and the thumping of sparring, the yelling from Robby's dad. </p><p>"They must be used to full contact," Sam says. "What do you think, Demetri?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah," Demetri says. "Full contact. Like, <em> full</em>." He shakes his head like the memory tastes bad. "I think I broke my nose. The doctor said I didn't, but you know. Big pharma, whatever."</p><p>"Well, they can't do that here," Robby says. He gets up and looks out the window. "Yeah, I think they're training more like us. No contact, just moves." </p><p>"Huh," Sam says. "I guess a cobra can change its scales." She grins. "Aw, come on, nothing? That was funny." </p><p>"Sorry, LaRusso," Robby says. "No points for effort." He grins back at her.</p><p>She kicks him in the thigh with her socked foot. "No loyalty." And then, "Hey, Demetri?"</p><p>Demetri shakes his head again. He's been staring into space. "Sorry," he says. "Just - you know. I guess I miss him. Eli, not Hawk." </p><p>Sam twists her mouth in sympathy. "Yeah," she says. "That sucks. When my friends stabbed me in the back I thought I was going to die, and I'd only been friends with them for like, a year. And also they didn't <em> actually </em> like, physically stab me. And now Moon and I are good." </p><p>Demetri blinks. </p><p>"Okay," Sam says. "As I say it out loud, I can see how that's not really relevant." But she reaches out across the tatami for Demetri's hand, and he looks down at her fingers like he's startled, like they're precious, and then puts his hand on hers. </p><p>Robby sips his hot chocolate. It's a little too sweet, but that's nice after a workout. "I think that's kind of what happened with my dad," he says. "Except that Kreese wasn't his best friend, he was more like his dad."</p><p>"Like you and my dad?" Sam asks. </p><p>Robby shrugs. "I hope your dad never tries to kill <em> me</em>."</p><p>"He'd definitely die first," Sam says. "Or, my mom would kill him. She loves you."</p><p>Robby never knows quite what to say when she says stuff like that. At first he thought it was jealousy, like how he gets sometimes when his dad is beaming at Miguel and Miguel is beaming back. But Sam's not fucked up like that; she loves him, and her parents absolutely love her even if they like Robby, so it's not the same at all. She's always trying to make him feel included and part of the family and he loves that about her but sometimes if you have to say it out loud it doesn't quite work. </p><p>Robby's had a lot of time to get used to not quite belonging anywhere. He'd say he's even comfortable with it. And by far this is the most comfortable he's ever been; he doesn't have to be Mr LaRusso's second son for that to be true. </p><p>Demetri yawns and stretches his arms above his head. This is a Demetri tell, that he's going to do something he thinks is scary and try to pass it off as not a big deal. "So," he says. "Why <em> did </em> you guys break up?" </p><p>Sam chokes on her hot chocolate. </p><p>Robby is not drinking, so he doesn't choke. He's kind of impressed with Demetri. He knows Demetri, and that kind of question is hard to ask. Even harder when you have a hundred versions of the answer in your head. </p><p>"You wanna take this?" Sam asks, lightly. "Since it was your idea." There's only a little sting in it, the tiniest edge. She understood it after, but in the first moment she was hurt. </p><p>Robby shrugs it off. "If you want."</p><p>Demetri sips his drink, looking at them both from under his thick dark bangs. "You don't have to."</p><p>Robby stretches one leg out, wraps the other around his knee. "We're better as friends."</p><p>"It wasn't <em> for </em>Miguel," Sam says, clarifying. "Or Tory." That light curl of her lip. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "That happened after. I was kind of dating you for your family, and it was making me really fucking weird."</p><p>"Real nice," Sam says. But she shakes her head to take the sting out of it, and then, slowly, carefully, continues to speak. "I was being weird, too. It was making me like, controlling? I kept thinking I could tell you what was best for you, but it was just what I wanted. I was pushing for someone that you weren't." </p><p>She's never said it quite like that. Maybe she's never thought it like that, before.</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. "Sam, it never felt like that." </p><p>She blinks, looking away from him. "You just never said what you wanted," she says. "So I thought, you know. I thought I was making you want the right things. Things that would be good for both of us." </p><p>He reaches out for her but she pulls away, not hard, but enough for it to feel like a kick to Robby's breastbone. </p><p>She brings up her hand, rubbing at her eyes. "It's better now," she says. "We're better." </p><p>Demetri is very quiet. He just blinks those dark eyes, going back and forth between Robby and Sam. Mostly on Sam, though.</p><p>"You're better with Demetri," Robby says. "And I'm better with you." </p><p>"Yeah," she says. She smiles at Demetri, and then at Robby. "It was good for us both. To know that it was happening. So I'm glad you did say it." </p><p>He nods. </p><p>She toys with the end of her braid, the way she does when she's deciding whether to say something or not. "You, um. Have you talked to Miguel about it? The thing you do?" </p><p>"What?" Robby says.</p><p>She shakes her head. "Forget I said it," she says. "It's none of my business." </p><p>Robby looks down into his hot chocolate. "Okay," he says.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So it would be difficult to explain that actually Robby knows a thing or two about negotiating with people - with men - like John Kreese, and the thing he knows best, truest, deepest in his bones, is that by getting in the room with them you have already lost. The only victory is not being there at all. After that the best you can hope for is a draw.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: racist, misogynist &amp; homophobic language; john kreese</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After class, Tory comes home with them. She doesn't do it all that often, but this time she doesn't even ask. Miguel's grandma looks flustered that Miguel's brought all of them home with him, but she says something sharp and dismissive when Robby's dad offers to take Robby home with him and make a freezer lasagna. </p><p>Miguel's mom comes home while Robby is chopping onions, and kisses all of their cheeks hello. Robby's dad is sitting at the table with Tory, drinking orange juice. Miguel and Robby and Miguel's grandma are in the kitchen, even though its kind of too small for all of them. Robby always gets the easy, boring jobs because he's not used to cooking - he's stopped cutting the tips of his fingernails off, but it took a minute - but he likes getting to be there, getting to be helpful in theory even if in practice he's just an unmoving object slowing everyone else down. </p><p>Tory and Miguel's mom get along. You wouldn't think Tory would give good mom but she does. Mrs LaRusso likes her, too. She doesn't do as well with dads, but Tory likes moms and so she makes the effort. </p><p>Robby's mom would like Tory, probably. Or she would hate her. One or the other.</p><p>Robby's dad likes Miguel's mom. They almost went on a date once, that's what Miguel says, but it all got fucked up when Robby moved in with his dad, because Robby was, and he can admit this now, being a bitch about the whole thing and so his dad couldn't leave the apartment, just had to stay and get drunk and glare at Robby while Robby glared back. It was Robby's dad's fault. He doesn't know how to talk about anything now but he was even worse four months ago. </p><p>Robby likes Miguel's mom but he never knows if she likes him. He knows he's charming, because he spent a bunch of time learning how to be like that, but he feels like she must see right through him. Because Miguel is Miguel and Robby is Robby, and it must be obvious if you look. </p><p>But Miguel's mom always smiles when she sees him and Robby always smiles back. </p><p>Tory is quiet all night. A careful quiet, not a simmer, just, in thought. Miguel's mom sees it, maybe Robby's dad, too. Maybe Miguel's grandma but Robby can never get a read on her. </p><p>When she's in the bathroom Robby kicks Miguel's ankle and says, "Good idea," and Miguel shrugs and says, "I didn't want her to be alone."</p><p>When they're at Miguel's, Robby doesn't really like, touch Miguel too much. Or Tory, either. It's easier if Tory and Miguel are the couple and Robby is just also there, because Miguel likes his mom and his grandma and also, they're Catholic. They've never actually talked about it but Robby thinks Miguel gets it. Sometimes he reaches out for Robby but when Robby ducks away he doesn't look hurt or anything. </p><p>It's just, like, being smart. Like how Robby wouldn't lean on Tory too much, in Miguel's living room, because that would make it look weird for Tory, too. He's pretty sure he and Tory are on the same page there.</p><p>So he just smiles when she comes back to the table and Miguel reaches over to take her hand.</p><p>Robby keeps thinking about what Sam said. <em> Does Miguel know you're doing it? </em>Doing what? </p><p>Sam's fucking - she's like that. He loves her, but she thinks she knows things that she doesn't, because she's smarter than everyone and better adjusted. It's not <em> not </em> true, but there's a lot of shit Sam doesn't understand. She's lucky to not understand it. He's glad she doesn't.</p><p>He knows that's not like, the fairest way to think about Sam. Shit has, in fact, happened to Sam. It's just easier to think it rolled off her because of all her armour, her family who love her, that beautiful house, the karate she was born into. </p><p>Robby's not doing <em> anything </em> to Miguel. Miguel loves to fucking talk. They talk all the time. And Miguel shoved Robby's arm out of its socket. If anything means Robby will tell Miguel what he's thinking it's that.</p><p>He walks Tory to her car after dinner, because Miguel is helping with the cleanup and Tory looks like she's about to suffocate in the apartment with all of them in it. </p><p>"You wanna stay?" he asks. His dad doesn't give a shit. Or: if he gives a shit Robby won't hear it.</p><p>She closes her eyes. "I shouldn't," she says. "Because I really don't want to be alone, and I do stupid shit when I'm like that. So I think I should probably, you know, sit with it. Like Miguel's always saying, because he talks to the guidance counsellor." </p><p>Robby tucks his hair behind his ears. "Okay," he says. "Don't do stupid shit, okay? Call me, call him. We'll take my dad's car." </p><p>She smiles. It's that same careful smile, the one that comes from being kicked around and not trusting anyone but wanting to, for once. "Okay." </p><p> </p><p>She doesn't call but she sends them both a clip of a cat bullying a dog three times its size. Okay, Nichols. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>When Robby was a kid, like, really little, he had this not a dream, not quite a fantasy. A recurring hope. In it, Robby's dad came home and he was clean shaven and dry, and he kissed Robby's mom on the cheek, and he picked Robby up and swung him around - see, this is how you can tell how little Robby was - and said, "everything is going to be okay, now." And in the dream, the fantasy, the hope, it was.</p><p>It wasn't elaborate, even then. They didn't move to a mansion in the hills. They didn't even move to a bigger apartment. Just Robby's dad was there and Robby's mom would smile all the time.</p><p>As Robby grew up it changed. The dream became Robby's dad showing up once a week, like divorced kids on TV. Robby's mom not throwing things when she saw him. Robby showing both his parents a railslide, getting the landing right, getting a hug from his mom and a high five from his dad. </p><p>But Robby fell out of a tree when he was nine and sprained his ankle and when Robby was eleven his dad came to pick him up from soccer and crashed the Firebird with both of them in it. He never told his mom about it because his dad begged him not to but his dad stopped coming by, even more than he already had. It's a stupid secret and he shouldn't have kept it. It wasn't the first time the cops drove him home and definitely not the last. </p><p>What Robby is saying is just that you should never get your hopes up, with his dad. You just shouldn't. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's been a little under a week since Robby's dad started running classes at Miyagi-do. Robby's put his head down to make up for the bad week of class, and he's gone to LaRusso Auto after karate a couple times to help out with the repairs on his Corolla. He's more of a pain than anything but it's cool to learn stuff, and this way he doesn't feel as bad about Mr LaRusso not letting him pay for any of it.</p><p>Robby's mom reaches out to cup his cheek. "You cut your hair. You look handsome, baby."</p><p>"Thanks," Robby says. "Sorry I couldn't come yesterday."</p><p>They called him, actually. Asked him not to come, so he got a haircut in the hour before work and let Mrs LaRusso call him a heartbreaker so he didn't have to think about why they wouldn't want him there. </p><p>Robby's hair isn't short, exactly - not like Miguel, short everywhere. There's still a little movement. But it's short on the sides, and it makes him look kind of like a guy taking his shirt off on Tik Tok. It felt weird to ask for it, something different instead of the thing he always asked for, because Luke had said, <em> when your hair's like this it makes your eyes look greener, </em> and <em> I like having something to hold on to. </em> But it's been a year, more, so it was time.</p><p>Robby's mom looks away. "It's okay now," she says. "I'm glad you could come today. I know it's a Friday, I'm sure you have plans."</p><p>"Not really," Robby says. "Just dinner with my dad."</p><p>"Your birthday's coming up," she says. "They say I can go out for an afternoon, if you wouldn't mind. If it wouldn't cramp your style."</p><p>"Mom," he says. </p><p>"We don't have to go on your actual birthday," she says. "Like, after or before, they don't mind. After's probably better, then you'll be eighteen so you can sign me out."</p><p>"They think that's okay?" </p><p>She winces. Robby's mom is good at looking hurt, got it down to an art. "Yeah, baby. I wouldn't have said it if they didn't suggest it."</p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "I wasn't really going to do anything, so I can come here, if you want."</p><p>"Eighteen's a big year," she says. "There isn't anyone special? I remember you and Samantha LaRusso -"</p><p>"Just friends, mom," Robby says. "But yeah, maybe we'll go to the beach or something." He reaches out so he can hold her hand between his. "I miss you. But you have to get better. You know that, right?"</p><p>She sighs. "I know. I just miss you, baby. You're living this whole big life without me, with your dad. I just feel like I should be there to make sure it's all okay." She looks tired. It's the midway point, which is the time it's all gone to shit the previous two times. Robby believes in his mom, he does, but her skin looks like paper and her hair looks like straw. </p><p>"I love you," Robby says. "Remember that cake you made when I was seven?" </p><p>She laughs. It makes her look younger, like his mom. "With all the funfetti! That was a good one. What was the dinosaur you liked? A triceratops?" </p><p>He nods. "It looked more like a triangle next to a square," he confides, "but it was so good."</p><p>She reaches forward to cup his face with her hands. "I love you so much," she says. "It feels like I'm overflowing with it, like - you were born, and my heart didn't have the space to contain how much I loved you. And I've been fucking it up ever since."</p><p>Robby goes to the bathroom and stares at himself in the mirror. Stares at himself staring at his phone for so long he thinks he might not do it, but. No luck. </p><p>Luke says, <em> u know her better than i do. </em></p><p>Robby says, <em> thats not an answer. </em></p><p>Luke says, <em> i think she has a history of taking the easy way out. </em></p><p>The thing about Luke, which fucking sucks, is that he does, in fact, know who Robby is, and what Robby thinks, and what Robby's life looks like. What else do you need to predict the future?</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>When Robby gets home with a bag of grocery store Caesar salad, Mr LaRusso is standing nervously in Robby's dad's kitchen. Robby's dad is opening a Coors and leaning against the counter. Robby drops his salad on the kitchen table and takes a seat. </p><p>"You need to go home," Robby's dad is saying, firmly. "I'll call you. Or Robby will."</p><p>"I just," Mr LaRusso says. "I don't like leaving you alone with him." His eyes dart to Robby but then they settle back on Robby's dad.</p><p>"You stick around, it's going to be a fight real fast," Robby's dad says. "And that won't help anybody. You heard what the lawyer said: if we can talk it out that's best. You don't want us tearing up your koi pond forever."</p><p>Two knocks: Miguel, with his spare key, sticking his head around the door. "Hey, anybody home?"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby and his dad call, in unison. </p><p>"Hi," Miguel says. "You sure there isn't anything I could bring?" He's dressed up - collared shirt, the kind of slacks you'd wear to prom. His hair is gelled to death and it looks kind of dumb but Robby won't say that. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "No offense."</p><p>Miguel looks at Robby and Robby twists his mouth in apology; Miguel shrugs and comes over to kiss his cheek. "Hi."</p><p>"Hi," Robby says. He feels himself smile, automatic, turning like a sunflower to where Miguel is. </p><p>"You two," Robby's dad says. "Don't do that when he's here. Okay?" </p><p>Miguel flinches. Robby feels it against his cheek. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. "We're not stupid."</p><p>Robby's dad rakes his fingers through his hair. "I know. I just want this to go as smoothly as possible." </p><p>Mr LaRusso coughs, covering what sounds suspiciously like a snort of disbelief. "John Kreese? Smoothly? I still think you should have done it in a public place."</p><p>Robby's dad shrugs. "Good you're not gonna be here, then," he says. "Your lawyer said it was best if we could talk it out, so we're gonna talk it out. Somewhere nobody will call the cops if we end up having to, you know-"</p><p>"What if he tries to kill you again?" Mr LaRusso is pacing around the kitchen. It's not a big kitchen so it's more like he takes three steps and then turns around, takes another three steps, then turns around again, but it seems to be working for him.</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. He reaches out so his hand is on Mr LaRusso's hip, pulling him to a halt. Then he realizes where his hand is and yanks it back, as though he's been burned. "It's gonna be fine. That's why I have the boys."</p><p>"Oh, the <em> boys,</em>" Mr LaRusso says. "No offense, boys." He is still standing right in front of Robby's dad.</p><p>Robby would love to grab his dad and shake him, but they don't have time to get in a fight; they told Kreese 7:30 and it's seven now. He tips his head onto Miguel's shoulder instead. </p><p>"We really will handle it," Miguel offers. His hand rests, unconscious, at the nape of Robby's neck, where there used to be a lot of hair and now there isn't. It's like he can feel Miguel's heartbeat through it. "And we'll call you right after, Mr LaRusso, I'll make sure."</p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs. "If you're sure-"</p><p>"<em> Yes, </em>" Robby's dad says. "Thank you for the help. Go home."</p><p>Mr LaRusso sighs, a big enormous one, too big for how he's actually kind of short, and then he goes.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>
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</p><p>Robby's dad has been on two dates with Ben, the guy from the app. Three if you count the time Robby interrupted, which Robby doesn't, because they just had one drink and ended up at Robby's dad's apartment. (He didn't ask his dad, and his dad didn't tell him; he got it second-hand, through Miguel. Easiest way to get anything about his dad.)</p><p>Ben is a teacher and he is in his late thirties. Why he swiped right is beyond Robby, but people do stupid things all the time.</p><p>Robby's dad likes him. Ben has not stayed over yet but Robby's dad didn't come home on Tuesday night, and the next day Robby's dad was weirder than normal. Miguel likes Ben because he is a vegetarian and Robby's dad hasn't flipped out about it yet. They both like Iron Eagle.</p><p>(Robby fucking hates Iron Eagle. He tried getting into it when he was like, eight. Made his mom put it on all the time so he could quote it when his dad came over.</p><p>His dad still didn't come over.)</p><p>Robby's dad said, "You don't think it's fucked up, do you?" </p><p>Robby said, "I don't think it's more fucked up than anything else you do, no." </p><p>They left it at that.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is the pragmatic one, out of Robby and his dad and Miguel, so he is the one who said, "Well, if you can't have this studio, why don't you just get another one?"</p><p>Robby's dad choked on his Coors and Miguel had to slap him on the back until he stopped spewing beer out of his nostrils. </p><p>Robby thinks his dad is being stupid. Mr LaRusso had the studio at his house, and then he stopped just training Robby and they moved to Miyagi-do, and Robby moved into that studio to live. And now Robby lives with his dad. "It's a name," he said. "You can buy new mats. You might have to get a loan, but hey, maybe you can get, like, a real location that doesn't suck."</p><p>"It's <em> our </em>name," Miguel said. "And it's our mini-mall." </p><p>The unspoken part, obviously: <em> not everyone would come with us. </em> Hawk's been toeing the line, from what Robby hears from Tory and Robby, but it's the other guys, the ones who didn't directly challenge Miguel, who are still at Cobra Kai. And there are a lot of them just in limbo, not showing up for classes with Kreese, but not making the trek to Miyagi-do, either.</p><p>Robby would be lying if he said he liked his dad having classes at Miyagi-do. Honestly, Cobras make his skin crawl: they're loud, they roll around, they yell. Mr LaRusso's made them tone it down a lot but it's still nothing like the rooted tree Robby used to be at Miyagi-do, the place where he could be still, and at peace, and let the world move through him.</p><p>But if Mr LaRusso can make the compromise then Robby can, too. </p><p>It's not like he has to stay for the Cobra Kai classes. Robby's dad took all the shitty time slots, out of guilt, so Miyagi-do are always done before the Cobras arrive. Robby could go home with Sam or Demetri or Mr LaRusso. </p><p>But he hasn't. He's stayed. </p><p>"It's not that the name is so important," Robby's dad said, getting that soft look around his eyes, looking at Miguel. "It's that I can't leave those kids there, alone, with him. Not when it was my karate that got them there. My promise that they'd be able to take care of themselves with it."</p><p>"Oh," Miguel said.</p><p>Robby sighed and ate a lasagne noodle. "Your funeral," he said. "And I guess, mine too, because of my stupid luck."</p><p>Robby's dad was bristling, Robby could see it, but Miguel just grinned, that easy Miguel smile. "Thanks," he said. "We appreciate you, too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>So Robby's dad has invited John Kreese to come for dinner, and they are going to hash things out and see if they can figure something out. Robby rolled his eyes at 'figure something out,' but when Miguel suggested that he could go to the LaRussos' for dinner Robby almost yelled at him. Robby didn't yell at him, because he doesn't yell at Miguel, but he did yell at his dad later when he tripped over a half-empty Coors on the bathroom floor.</p><p>Robby like, kind of gets what his dad wants. It makes sense. If there are two teachers, and there's a fight for whoever gets the studio, it'll be messy. Students would get confused, and especially with Cobras, there might be collateral damage. It would be better if Kreese would like, go back to Vietnam or whatever.</p><p>(Miguel said, <em> you know, people actually live in Vietnam, right? They have lives there. </em></p><p>Robby's dad said, <em> you know that's not what I meant, </em> but he looked embarrassed anyway.)</p><p>Robby's dad is thinking about offering to buy Kreese out. He looked pretty annoyed to be thinking about it - that vein started going in his neck - which means Mr LaRusso maybe offered to help him out with that, like Mr LaRusso has been helping Robby's dad with the studio space and all that. </p><p>(Robby isn't thinking much about that, either. It's okay that he's not doing that, because Robby's dad is kind of seeing someone, and the someone is a nice, handsome guy, who Miguel thinks is friendly and funny, and Robby's dad hasn't crashed it into a pole yet.</p><p>These are all good things.)</p><p>Robby doesn't really know what to expect. He doesn't want to say it like that, because his dad doesn't know he's talked to Kreese, and he didn't tell Miguel, either; and, well. He doesn't like to talk too much about Luke with them because they don't really get it. Miguel is easy to talk to, and he would never make Robby feel bad for staying, but it's just something he doesn't understand.</p><p>So it would be difficult to explain that actually Robby knows a thing or two about negotiating with people - with men - like John Kreese, and the thing he knows best, truest, deepest in his bones, is that by getting in the room with them you have already lost. The only victory is not being there at all. After that the best you can hope for is a draw. </p><p>But Robby is only seventeen, even if he's staring down the barrel at eighteen, and Robby's dad knows this man better than Robby's ever known anyone. So maybe it will be fine.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is sitting at the kitchen table, eating a carrot stick. </p><p>"Why do we have carrot sticks?" Robby's dad says, staring at him from the couch. "That's rabbit food. He's gonna say it's rabbit food." Robby's dad has had only one Coors and he is not doing well about it. </p><p>"It's okay, Sensei," Miguel says. He is sitting on the other end of the couch, cross-legged. "Take a breath."</p><p>"I am taking a breath, Diaz," Robby's dad snaps. "I'm taking lots of breaths. I've been breathing since before your mom was born."</p><p>Robby eats another carrot stick. Miguel said that he probably shouldn't have a beer either, in case it set his dad off. He should have smoked in the car. He <em> knew </em> he should have, but he thought, hey: maybe I'll need my reflexes. No. He needed to not be on edge, like everyone else in this goddamn shithole apartment. </p><p>That's not fair. Miguel looks nice and he is doing his best. Robby's dad is wearing a nice shirt and nice jeans and he even bought steak. Robby figures even his dad can cook steak.</p><p>(Robby himself once burned himself trying to cook pasta. So maybe he shouldn't be pointing fingers.)</p><p>Robby is wearing work slacks and a nice shirt. The shirt belongs to Miguel, but it's possible Miguel has forgotten about it. It has buttons, which is something Robby almost exclusively associates with clothes his ex bought for him, but because it is Miguel's it doesn't feel so bad. Just comfortable.</p><p>Robby has never seen Kreese and his dad in the same room. Miguel has, though. Miguel hates it. </p><p>He doesn't say it in those words but Miguel hates it when life kicks Robby's dad in the balls. </p><p>(Robby knows. Robby picked Mr LaRusso to learn from. Robby is the smart one.)</p><p>Robby's point is that Miguel is unnerved by the way Robby's dad gets around Kreese, and that means it's probably bad. </p><p>Tory texts: <em> murder yet? </em>followed by a knife emoji. </p><p><em> You better hope there isn't, </em> Robby replies. <em> This conversations gonna look real suspicious.  </em></p><p>She sends him a kissing face. </p><p>Robby bites down hard on his carrot stick. The crack is, in fact, very satisfying. </p><p>"Okay," Robby's dad says. He keeps bouncing back and forth between wanting to give them detailed instructions on what to do and how to talk, and telling them they should do whatever they want, the weirder the better. Miguel nods very seriously to all of it. </p><p>Robby, of course, is sober. </p><p>Robby is actually not a serious drinker, and that was a conscious choice. He likes certain drugs - party shit mostly, and weed but that's not even a drug, really - but he doesn't drink enough to lose it, not ever. Not with his mom the way she is, and his dad the way he is. He probably wouldn't have a beer now even if his dad wouldn't flip, because you start out taking the edge off and then - </p><p>Well. </p><p>"Hey, Keene," Miguel says. "What are you thinking about?" </p><p>Robby grins at him. It's easy to smile at Miguel. "Just what colour new couch we're gonna get, when there's a UFC match in here."</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad protests. </p><p>There is a knock on the door. Just the one knock. Firm, insistent.</p><p>Miguel and Robby's dad look at each other, but Robby's dad sighs and goes to get it. Robby settles back into his chair, tipping onto the back two legs. </p><p>"Thanks for coming," Robby's dad is saying. "It's good to see you."</p><p>"Wish I could say the same for you," says Kreese. He's not smoking but the cigar scent follows him like a cloud: he's wearing a long dark coat, which he shrugs out of and hands to Miguel. "Diaz." He lifts his eyes to meet Robby's. "Keene."</p><p>"Nice to meet you, sir," Robby says. "Carrot stick?"</p><p>Kreese looks the same. A tall, broad, man, wearing a long-sleeved shirt and jeans, just like Robby's dad. His face is craggy, eyes beady in the rough-hewn face. "I'll take a scotch, whatever you have. No ice." And then, "It's good you cut your hair. You looked like a dyke, before."</p><p>Robby is Miyagi-do. Absorb the hit. Think about where it came from before you bite back. Every offense creates an opening. </p><p>Robby grins, good-natured, like at the dealership or on a job. "Coming right up." He gets to his feet.</p><p>Robby's dad is making a weird face at him. Like, startled. </p><p>Oh, yeah. Robby's dad has never seen Robby on a job. </p><p>So Robby smiles and gets everyone settled. Robby's dad goes back to the steak. Robby and Miguel and Kreese sit at the table, with the scotch. Kreese is sitting between them, so Robby and Miguel are opposite each other. If Robby wanted he could reach out with his foot and he would touch Miguel's foot. He's pretty sure that would freak Miguel out, though. </p><p>Robby sips his scotch. It is <em> not </em> top-shelf but he is good at faking it. "Good class today?" he asks.</p><p>"They tell me you lack a killer instinct," Kreese says, leaning back into his chair. "I think it's just a matter of training." He turns to Miguel. "Diaz, they say you can follow through. I'm not sure I've seen much evidence of that." </p><p>Miguel says, "My Sensei taught me that some things matter more than winning. Like honour." </p><p>"Hm," Kreese says. "Sounds like loser talk to me." </p><p>Robby drags his tongue along the inside of his teeth. "Can we save the shop talk for after dinner? I don't know about you, but I'm starving." </p><p>Robby doesn't know if he's grateful or not, but that's when Robby's dad yells that the food is ready, and Robby goes to get plates. </p><p>The steak is good. Robby's is rare, which honestly he doesn't like that much but said on autopilot, which sucks because now he's eating a mouthful of blood, but it's fine. He can tell when a steak is good and it's good. Robby's dad must know a guy. This isn't beyond Robby's dad; he's shitty at a ton of things but you're always surprised to find that there's someone who knows him, or who's heard of him. </p><p>Maybe this is how Mr LaRusso feels about Robby's dad. Probably not.</p><p>Kreese is telling stories about when Robby's dad was young. About Robby's dad's first All Valley win.</p><p>Despite himself Miguel is leaning across the table to listen, knife and fork set aside, steak forgotten. He loves Robby's dad so much; Robby wishes his dad deserved it.</p><p>"You know the story, kid?" Kreese asks Robby, easy with a familiarity he hasn't earned, though it could be the scotch. "Or did he forget to tell you that when he wasn't teaching you karate?" He pronounces it exaggerated, like Mr LaRusso sometimes does, when he's a little buzzed: <em> ka-rah-tay </em>. </p><p>Robby looks at his dad, who winces, more creases around his mouth to add to all of the lines on his face. "Golden run," Robby says. "Good coaching, right? And natural talent. And that elbow." </p><p>Kreese laughs. Sips his own beer. "Your dad wishes," he says, that voice like gravel. "No, he almost pussied out in the second round. Kid with a bad shoulder, isn't that right, Johnny?"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "I didn't want to push it, and I shouldn't have."</p><p>That low bark again, not even a laugh. Something primal, animal. "Call it a professional disagreement," Kreese says. "As I think you both know, sometimes you don't have the luxury of the moral high ground." </p><p>Robby's dad clears his throat. "C'mon, what's your point? Just want to walk down memory lane? You didn't have to steal my dojo for that."</p><p>Robby raises an eyebrow at Miguel. </p><p>Miguel takes a breath. "Uh, Sensei," he says. </p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby's dad says. He bends his head to his own steak. "All right, <em> Sensei</em>, tell your story." He says the title like a slur. </p><p>Kreese shrugs. "If it's not wanted," he says, "I'll sum it up like this: you really were the best student I ever had, and I don't want things to go like this." It's sincere, Robby thinks. Like how Luke is always earnest, how he always means what he says. </p><p>Doesn't stop it being fucking obvious, though. </p><p>But Robby's dad flinches. "Thank you," he says. </p><p>"I never had a student work harder," Kreese says. "Your dad, your Sensei - he was a skinny little kid at first, they all wiped the mats with him. But he never gave up. Just kept coming back."</p><p>"Students learn from their teachers," Robby says, benignly, to cover his dad's knife scraping loudly against the plate. "He must have picked it up somewhere."</p><p>"Well," Kreese says, "that's kind of you to say." He smiles at Robby and Robby smiles back. "I suppose you're like that, too. They tell me you're basically self-taught, isn't that the case? LaRusso was never much to go on the attack, but you're stronger than he was at your age." </p><p>Miguel is watching Robby carefully, quietly. He is good at watching Robby like this. </p><p>"I don't think that's true," Robby says, friendly but appreciative. "I've only been doing karate for like, a year. I was a skateboarder before that."</p><p>"Ah," Kreese says. "That explains the way you dress." He smirks. "I thought maybe it was, you know." A sideways look in Miguel's direction. "Or childish rebellion. But skateboarding - glad you've put that behind you."</p><p>Robby goes to the skate park like once a week, minimum. He likes it. It keeps him sharp, keeps him connected to gravity in a way that kata alone can't manage. "Mr LaRusso works hard with me," he says. Polite, deferential. </p><p>"I'm sure he does." The way he says it makes it sound sordid, dark. </p><p>Robby's dad's eyes flicker, a cold blaze. "That's enough."</p><p>Kreese's smirk spreads wider across his face. "You think so, Johnny?" </p><p>Robby sighs and eats his steak. It tastes coppery in his mouth. </p><p>"John," Robby's dad says, with distaste. "I asked you here to buy you out."</p><p>Kreese takes a long drink. The sound of his smacking lips fills the room. "Johnny," he says. "Why the hell would you go and do that?"</p><p>Robby's dad leans forward. The vein in his neck pulses. "Because I want you <em> out</em>. That's what we agreed on. It's my dojo and I think it's more than what you deserve to buy you out, but I know where you were before, and I hated seeing you like that." </p><p><em> Wrong thing to say, </em> Robby thinks. He feels the air shift, sees Miguel tense out of the corner of his eyes. If they were somewhere else Robby could reach out for him, brush his foot against Miguel's ankle, but he doesn't want to risk it. </p><p>"If it's your dojo why are they my students?" Kreese asks. The sound of his voice is level but his eyes are bright just like Robby's dad's. "Sure, some of them left with you, but it seems it's like the name, don't you think? And the name was always mine." </p><p>"No," Robby's dad says. "It <em> was </em>yours. But it ruined my life and I fixed it." </p><p>"Did you?" Kreese asks. Smooth, silk-smooth. Smooth like an oil slick. "Because from here, it looks to me like you lost it. Looks like you took Cobra Kai down the wrong path. You and LaRusso? Really?" </p><p>Robby's dad puts his beer down, hard. "He's a better man than you'll ever be. I'm sorry it took me this long to see it."</p><p>"Mr Lawrence," Kreese says. It snaps through the air, powerful, flattening everything around it. He doesn't stand up; he doesn't need to. </p><p>Even Robby shivers. </p><p>It works on his dad, slams into him like a tidal wave. He falters back into his chair, gripping the edge of the table. </p><p>"I don't mean it to insult you," Kreese says, gentler now. "You did bring it back. I couldn't do that. You fanned the flame, made something worth it. But now I'm here to help. Don't you want that?" </p><p>"Sensei," Miguel says. His voice is gentle. </p><p>Robby's dad drags in a breath. His eyes lock on Miguel and he nods. "You just want to help?" he asks. </p><p>"Well," Kreese says. "Running things is not your strong suit. You should stick to what you're good at. You remember how good it was when you were at <em> my </em> Cobra Kai, don't you? The whole world was yours. Not like now."</p><p>There's traffic out on the road. It's always loud here; when Robby first moved in he noticed it more. It was kind of soothing. Up in Encino it's too quiet, you always feel like something's waiting to get you.</p><p>"I don't need money," Kreese says. "I needed <em> Cobra Kai</em>. And I got it. I really can't thank you enough. I would never cast you aside, Johnny. I told you that was the worst mistake I ever made, and I meant it." He reaches into the middle of the table for the scotch. Pours himself another. "Johnny?" </p><p>Robby's dad shakes his head. "You just want me to come back," he says. Slowly, feeling it out. "To work for you." </p><p>Kreese smiles. "To work <em> with </em>me," he says. "But yes. In my name." He pours the scotch into Robby's dad's cup, pushes it over to him. "Drink." </p><p>Robby's dad looks drugged. He takes a long drink, a long swallow. He doesn't say anything.</p><p>Miguel looks at Robby from under his eyelashes. That's a worried Miguel look, and Robby would be mad at his dad for bringing Miguel into this except, well, then it wouldn't be Miguel. Miguel would die rather than not be here. </p><p>"Miguel, can you put some coffee on?" Robby says it gently. "You know where everything is."</p><p>"Yeah, sure." Miguel gets up, slowly. His hand curls around the back of Robby's chair. </p><p>"Another thing," Kreese says. "This." He waves his hand between Miguel and Robby. "In our day, neither of you would be a fruit. But it's fine, things change." </p><p>"It's okay," Robby murmurs. "Go."</p><p>Miguel wobbles on his feet like a deer, like Demetri. "I'm right here," he murmurs back. </p><p>"I know," Robby says. He shifts his head towards the kitchen. </p><p>Robby's dad shifts, like somebody underwater. Robby knows how that feels but he knows it must be worse to be <em> seen </em> like this, especially by - </p><p>Well, Robby's dad's met Luke. It's not the same, but he has met him. </p><p>Miguel is clattering in the kitchen, not too loud but loud enough that it's on purpose, that Robby and his dad both can't lose themselves at the table, can't slip into the universe that Kreese is building. </p><p>"Thanks for your approval," Robby says. He keeps it wry but with enough earnestness that it can read either way. Not disrespectful, not here for a fight; just calm enough to get everyone out of here alive. He didn't know that was what he was here for but he knows it now. What else did he live his entire life for? </p><p>Kreese inclines his head. "Different ways to be men, now," he says. "I can't say I approve of all of them, but you and the-" the swift recalculation, the biting of the tongue, "and Diaz, the kids say you both have it figured out." </p><p>"Miguel's a credit to my dad," Robby says. He doesn't need to say <em>in spite of,</em> <em>not because of</em>. It's not something that matters here, and maybe it's also not something that is entirely true. "He's the best Cobra Kai has." </p><p>"And you, Mr Keene," Kreese says. That unflinching stare, the snake eyes. "You can't be all LaRusso. That's not possible."</p><p>Robby says, "My father doesn't speak ill of your training. I respect my teacher."</p><p>Kreese shakes his head. "Well," he says. He crosses his knife and fork on his plate. "Here's something else I don't understand: you and Mr Diaz and Ms Nichols. You and Mr Diaz, that makes sense. One of you and her, sure. Johnny, don't you agree?"</p><p>Robby's dad blinks. "Kreese," he says. A limp protest.</p><p>"I'll hold out for <em> Sensei</em>," Kreese says, like he's doing Robby's dad a favour. "This is nothing against Ms Nichols, of course. That's another thing I respect that you did, Johnny - there are some very strong young fighters at Cobra Kai, because you let girls in. Nichols is a hard worker. She has that spirit."</p><p>The soft beep of the coffee-maker. The smell of coffee blooms through the room, to cut the scotch and the beer and the steak. Robby breathes in and doesn't turn his head. He doesn't need to, to know Miguel's here. </p><p>"She's tough," Robby's dad says. Like he's struggling to say the words. "A brave kid, like all of them."</p><p>"Mm," Kreese says. "You can't tell me you understand it, though. Back in our day a girl like that, going with two boys at once-" He shakes his head. "Pick one or the other. Don't half-ass it."</p><p>"That's not what it is." That's Miguel, emerging too fast for Robby to notice, or because Robby wasn't paying attention. His hand settles on Robby's shoulder, a warm weight Robby didn't know he was missing until it hits him, until Miguel's presence settles in his bones and keeps him there. </p><p>"She's pretty," Kreese says. "But to be a pretty girl like that, to fight here - is it stupidity? Or is it damage? Hard to tell."</p><p>Miguel says, "Sensei-" </p><p>Too slow, <em> too fucking slow</em>. Robby doesn't expect anything of his dad, he fucking doesn't, but - fuck. </p><p>Robby's dad says, "Don't talk about the kids like that." He blinks once, then again. "They're kids. We don't know how they live their lives. I teach them to be strong because they need to be, because it's a whole world you and I both aren't made for." He's breathing hard. Robby thinks he means it.</p><p>Kreese looks at him, long and thoughtful, and then shifts his gaze to Robby. Those hard fucking snake eyes.</p><p>Robby wants to flinch, bare his neck, back down: prey animal on the savannah. But Mr LaRusso taught him <em> breathe in, be strong</em>, and here's Miguel, the counterbalance, the <em> home </em> where Kreese is an alien, terrifying, force; and Robby is the same to him. </p><p>"Is that what LaRusso's been teaching you? They show me his ads. Those Chinese trees. You look at him, you can smell the hair gel." </p><p>"Mr LaRusso's married," Robby says. As soon as he says it he knows it's the wrong thing to say, the wrong way to play it. <em> Off your game, Keene. </em>"I don't need him to tell me who to date." </p><p>"Of course not," Kreese says, fake-soothing, fake-easy. "Like your father says. You're just a kid. Isn't that right?"</p><p>Robby doesn't clench his fists or his jaw. He does what his dad does. Sits still, doesn't move. </p><p>"I never understood what you saw in him," Kreese continues. "LaRusso, I mean. He was a funny little kid, and it really was luck that he beat you. All five of you though, you followed him around that whole year. Practically had to muzzle you to keep you in line."</p><p>"You told us to wait," Robby's dad says. "Because you wanted to make an example of him."</p><p>Kreese hums. "That does sound like me." And then, "you seem to have worked things out. Right, Robby?" </p><p>Robby doesn't like the way Kreese says his name. But at least he says it. He hasn't said anything to Miguel and that's even worse, like Miguel doesn't matter. </p><p>Miguel does matter. He matters the most. </p><p>Robby can't protect his dad. The hold Kreese has on him is too vast, enormous. But maybe, if he tries very hard, Robby can protect Miguel, because Robby does not want Miguel to learn what Robby and his dad both know, the way you shut down and just let someone talk to you. Miguel's never done that and he shouldn't have to. </p><p>"Sure," Robby says, distracted. "Dad, you want sugar?" </p><p>"What?" Robby's dad blinks. "Sure."</p><p>Robby gets up, brushes Miguel's wrist with the edge of his hand. <em> C'mere </em>. </p><p>Miguel shakes his head, a tiny motion, barely visible.</p><p>Okay, Miguel. </p><p>Robby goes to get the coffee. He takes a second to look down at his own hands, the way the bruises from punching the bag are faded and familiar. He wants to be sober, wants it so much it hits him hard. The coffee is dark and hot and steam curls up from it into his nose and mouth. He drains one mug even though it burns his tongue and throat. He's not sure if it's the pain that helps or the caffeine, but he can close his eyes and shake his head without feeling slow or trapped, and that helps. </p><p>"Here," he says, cradling the mugs of coffee to his chest. One for his dad, one for Miguel, one for Kreese, though who knows if he wants it. </p><p>"Thanks," Miguel says. He looks at Robby thoughtfully, like he needs to look out for Robby, like he should be concerned. Well, he shouldn't, because Robby's dad is melting down right here and Robby doesn't know what to <em> do</em>.</p><p>Robby sits down in his chair. Everything feels heavy.</p><p>Robby's dad sips his coffee and looks at Robby, and then he looks back at Kreese. "I'm proud of the kids," he says. "They work hard. You were right, that's what makes the difference. I don't think Robby would be as good as he is if I'd taught him. LaRusso taught him something I never learned."</p><p>"Mercy," Kreese says. "How's that working out for you?" </p><p>The silence drags. His eyes chase them around the room, all of them. How does he fill up the room like this? He's only one man, and old and battered. </p><p>But - </p><p>"You come back," Kreese says. "We'll be bigger and better than ever. Robby, you'd like that, wouldn't you? Might even make you reconsider coming home."</p><p>"I'm gay," Robby's dad says. He puts his hands flat on the table and levers himself to his feet. "I was gay the whole time. Spent forty-odd years telling everyone, telling myself, that I wasn't, until I believed it. Get out."</p><p>Shock hits Kreese so hard that it shows on his face. Robby feels the satisfaction kick in like he's the one who said it. </p><p>"What?" His voice wavers. Not smug for once. Unsure.</p><p>"The door," Robby's dad says, "is right there. You know how to open a door, I'm sure."</p><p>Kreese says, "This joke isn't funny, Johnny." </p><p>"It's not a joke," Robby's dad says. "I like men. I want to be <em> with </em> men. It doesn't make me anything but fucking stupid that I listened to you for so long. Because I could have been doing it my whole life - I could have been <em> happy</em>, instead of trying to live my life like the person you made."</p><p>The words hang in the air. Robby's never felt this sensation in his chest; he thinks it might be pride. </p><p>And then Kreese begins to laugh. It's a hollow laugh, a smoker's laugh: the kind that's black and dripping with tar. "Like father, like son," he says. He gets up. "Johnny, there was always something wrong with you."</p><p>Robby's dad is trembling. Not like before a fight, though. Like -when he drinks too much. When Robby's mom used to scream at him and tell him he wasn't worth shit, when he stopped screaming back and just sat down on the couch. </p><p>"Remember when you were a kid?" Kreese asks. He's standing now, towering over Robby's dad and Robby and Miguel. "Just a crying, pathetic piece of shit. I did my best with you, Johnny. I did."</p><p>He walks, slowly, to take his coat. At the door he turns, smiles that huge soul-eating smirk. "Goodnight," he says. "Dinner was delicious."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Luke called Robby the other day, after Robby texted him to ask a question. The question was for Tory. Robby is trying every day to be better than this. </p><p>"I know Will," Luke said, that same warm note in his voice he got whenever he had something to hold over Robby. "He had a girlfriend, Beth. You know them. Remember that party off Delilah? We were in the same car home." </p><p>"Oh," Robby said. </p><p>"The one where," Luke said. "You were pretty fucked up. He was in the front."</p><p>Robby felt himself flush, a hot prickle along his cheeks. He was glad Luke couldn't see him, but he knew Luke didn't have to to know. "You were wasted, too."</p><p>"Yeah," Luke said. "But I didn't have to be for that, you were the nervous one."</p><p>Robby remembered: sitting on Luke's lap in the dark corner of the car, face tucked against Luke's shoulder while Luke had a conversation with someone else in the front. It was one of Luke's friends driving, someone Robby had done a line with at the party and then forgotten, which made it okay for Robby to be there, like that, with Luke.</p><p>For Luke's hand to be- while Robby made soft sounds against his shirt.</p><p>"Christ," he said. "I was fucked up."</p><p>"It was fun," Luke said. "You liked it."</p><p>Robby said, "Do you still know him?" </p><p>Luke hummed. "You know," he said, "if I tell you-" </p><p>Robby swallowed. "I'll owe you." As soon as he said it he wanted to take it back, but he couldn't, wouldn't. </p><p>"Aw, Robby," Luke said. "When you say it like that it makes me sound like an asshole."</p><p>"So you won't call it in?" </p><p>"Who's to say?" </p><p>That meant: no. </p><p>"Do you know him or not?" Too fast, too desperate. But Luke knew that already, because he'd set Robby up for it. </p><p>"Yeah," Luke said. "I can put you in touch."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad wraps his hands around his mug. "Shit," he says, looking down into it. And then he lifts his head and sets his jaw: the dad Robby knows. "I'm sorry that I let that happen," he says. "I should have stepped in earlier. The two of you - fuck. You shouldn't have been here at all." </p><p>"Sensei," Miguel says. He squeezes Robby's hand, just shy of too hard. "We wanted to be here. We're glad you let us."</p><p><em> Speak for yourself, </em>Robby thinks. Does not say. He just lets Miguel hold his hand. </p><p>Robby's dad presses the heels of his hands to his eyes. Deep breath in, out. "Robby, are you okay?" </p><p>"What?" Robby blinks.</p><p>"He went after you," Robby's dad says. "Both of you." He looks hollow.</p><p>Robby says, "I'm okay." And then, because it's true, "you shouldn't have had to tell him like that. That wasn't fair." <em> Thank you for saying it. He wouldn't have left without it. </em></p><p>Robby's dad sighs. "Hey," he says. "I'm glad I had something to say."</p><p>Robby leans his head onto Miguel's shoulder. "He really didn't see it coming."</p><p>"To be fair," Robby's dad says, "I didn't either. Until I said it." A tiny little smile curls at the edges of his mouth. "It was kinda fun to say. Is it always like that?" </p><p>Miguel is dragging his fingers through the hair at the nape of Robby's neck. It feels good, safe, like being held. "Yeah," he says. "It's nice to say." </p><p>Robby and Miguel clean up while Robby's dad gets on the phone with Mr LaRusso, on the couch. He's just drinking coffee. That's good. His voice is quiet, but not quiet enough that Robby couldn't hear him, if he strained.</p><p>"Hey," Robby says, drying a knife with the dish rag. "Are you okay?" </p><p>Miguel sighs. He's up to his elbows in soapy water. "I know what he gets like, around Kreese. That's why I wanted to be here." </p><p>Robby closes his eyes, because he doesn't want to say it. "I get like that. Do you think I get it from him?" </p><p>"What?" A splashing sound, and then Miguel's wet hands on him, one curled around his hip, the other cupping his cheek. "Hey. Hey. Look at me." </p><p>Robby doesn't want to. He wants everything to be dark and quiet, somewhere he can stay forever. But - "Hi."</p><p>Miguel's earnest, beautiful, face. He looks at Robby like this, not quite the same way he looks at Tory but with the same earnestness, the same honesty; this conviction that Robby matters. "Hey," Miguel says. "I think - bad things happened to both of you. But that doesn't mean you inherited them. It just means they happened."</p><p>Robby says, "It sucks."</p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. He leans forward and kisses Robby, a soft brush of their mouths. "It does." </p><p>Robby's dad says, "Hey, fuck you too!" and hangs up. </p><p>"What the hell?" Robby says, turning towards him, not too fast, not too far, so Miguel's hands stay where they are. "Dad?" </p><p>Robby's dad shrugs. "LaRusso," he says. "Pissed off he wasn't here. Thinks he could have handled it better." He leans back into the couch, drags his mug to his mouth. He doesn't look mad, though. Maybe just calm. "Your teacher doesn't know when to keep his nose out of shit, I'll tell you that for free, Robby."</p><p>Robby's skin itches. "'Cause you're so good at it?"</p><p>"What," Robby's dad says. </p><p>Robby turns back to the sink. "Forget it," he says. "It's fine."</p><p>"Hey," Miguel says. Cautious, again. That's how Robby used to sound when it was his mom and dad shouting at each other, and it makes him feel tangled up, even worse. </p><p>Robby's dad has crossed the room, leaning against the kitchen counter to look at them. "Robby," he says, carefully. "What's going on?"</p><p>"I don't know," Robby says. His face feels hot all of a sudden, prickly. He is not supposed to do this. "Fuck." </p><p><em> "Hey, </em>" says Robby's dad. It's not fair that he can sound like that. Like he cares about Robby, like Robby matters to him. "You thought you could handle it, is that it? And you're freaked out because you couldn't." </p><p>"No," Robby says. "That's not -" But his stomach hurts and his eyes are tight. "You thought you could handle it, too."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "I always think that, and I'm always wrong. You were right when you said we shouldn't. We should start listening to you more."</p><p>"You should always listen to me," Robby says. He looks down at his hands, still shaking. </p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad says, softly, gently. "I couldn't have said that to him without you. Both of you. You know that, right? I never landed a good hit on him, not one. Until then."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. And then he is coming around and wrapping Robby up in his arms, and Robby can feel wetness on his collar; maybe it's his dad crying, or maybe it's him, or maybe it's them both. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby takes a hot shower. Not too long, because his dad and Miguel are out there and his dad's gonna need it more than he will, but it's enough to wash his face and get his hair clean. </p><p>When he pads out of the bathroom in a towel, Miguel and his dad are sitting on the couch, talking gently, carefully. Robby's dad is resting his hand on Miguel's shoulder and Miguel is leaning towards him.</p><p>Sometimes looking at them like that makes Robby's stomach turn. It's so easy for Miguel; it's so easy for his dad. Not like anything about Robby and his dad, not even Robby and his mom.</p><p>Now he feels okay, though. He can just go to the couch and sit on the arm, and Miguel turns his face so Robby can kiss his cheek, but he's still talking to Robby's dad. "So you're gonna take him to the bar?" he's asking.</p><p>Robby's dad is smiling, a soft, little thing. "Yeah," he says. He looks up to Robby, and the smile broadens, brightening. "I think so."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
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</p><p>Robby wakes up with his head on Miguel's chest, Miguel's arm wrapped around his shoulders. The light is dappled and green, coming from the window through the bonsai leaves. Miguel's breath is soft and regular. </p><p>Last night they were both so fucking tired. They kissed for a little, Robby stretched on top of Miguel's chest, between his thighs, pressing his fingers into Miguel's wrists. It felt good enough that it almost didn't feel the way it does, always. The way Robby is trying to make sure it never feels, for Miguel. </p><p>Almost, anyway. It's not something Robby thinks about a lot. Or, he tries not to. Tory agrees with him. Miguel thinks they have this, like, conspiracy, but they don't. It's not something they talk about. </p><p>It's just that Robby was someone, for a while, and he's not that person anymore, but sometimes it feels like he is. And he hates that.</p><p>It wasn't like Tory's thing. Tory's thing was illegal, even if Robby and Tory both know better than to ever bring something like that to a fucking cop. Tory's thing was - it's fucked that they did that to her. It makes Robby sick to think about. </p><p>Robby's thing is just: he was young and in love and easily convinced of what he wanted to do. What was his idea, what wasn't. </p><p>So even if Miguel thinks he's sure, well. Robby was sure. </p><p>Miguel is warm and easy to rest against. Their legs tangle together, the kind of shit that happens early on, when you like being with someone so much you don't mind overheating all night to be pressed up against them. It would be nice if Tory was here, though they would have to drag all the blankets down to the floor to make enough room. Tory kicks in her sleep but she also fits, perfectly, in between them; her hair trailing across Robby's neck, her foot hooked around his ankle while one arm splats across Miguel's chest. </p><p>It's funny because it's not like Robby is shy. He's had threesomes before, like, a bunch of times. And he's pretty sure Tory has too, even if you don't count that really bad one. </p><p>It doesn't feel like that with them. It doesn't even feel like it's about sex. Just that they all like each other so fucking much. </p><p>"Mm," Miguel says. He's not really talking, just making a sound in his sleep. </p><p>Robby fits his face into the hollow of Miguel's throat. He smells good, even in the morning when he isn't awake yet and has been kind of sweaty all night. It's just nice to wake up with him. It's nice to feel like they are in the same place, going in the same direction together.</p><p>Robby's phone lights up. <em> Ugh. </em></p><p>He untangles himself, even though Miguel makes another soft sound and clutches for him sleepily. "Sorry," Robby says, guiltily, but Miguel just rolls over.</p><p>The text is from Tory. <em> Pick you up after work today? </em></p><p>He yawns, rubs a hand over his mouth. <em> Sure. Thanks. </em>And then, because he's looking at his phone - shit, it's late. He pulls a work shirt on over his head and hunts, as quietly as he can, through his dresser for some god damn pants.</p><p>Robby's dad is in the kitchen, wearing old jeans and a t shirt. It smells good, like frying processed meat and coffee.</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says, looking over his shoulder from the stove. He's frying bologna. "I was about to knock. We leave in fifteen, I told LaRusso I'd drop you off, so it's my ass if you're late."</p><p>"Carmen's gonna have a conversation with you," Robby says. He combs his fingers through his hair. It's different now that it's shorter, the weight is different and the distribution. </p><p>Robby's dad smiles at him. "I'll tell her you slept on the couch, how's that?" He looks better than he did last night, even though there are bags under his eyes like he didn't sleep.</p><p>Robby smiles back. "Okay."</p><p>"Diaz asleep?" He's a little looser now, talking about Miguel and Robby. At first it was hard for him, but all of a sudden it's been easier. Maybe Robby should write that guy Ben a thank-you card.</p><p>"Out like a light," Robby says. </p><p>"He's a good kid," Robby's dad says. And then, gently, "You are, too. You know that, right?" </p><p>Robby yawns again and cuts his way through the kitchen to the coffee. "Thanks," he says. "No idea what he sees in either of us."</p><p>Robby's dad laughs, low and fond. "Me, maybe. Not you. I can see what he sees in you."</p><p>Robby pours himself a cup of coffee from the machine, wraps his fingers around the ceramic and looks down into it. "You know," he says, not looking up, because if he looks up he'll lose his nerve, "when he said there's something wrong with you-"</p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad says. "You don't have to-"</p><p>"It's okay," Robby says. He looks up, accidentally. His dad's eyes are so fucking blue, like the Pacific on a clear day. Robby didn't get them, he got his mom's. Green like a forest, like emeralds. "They say that stuff, all the time. Because it works. The more times you hear it the more you believe it, and the more you think they fixed you. But they didn't." It's not that Robby doesn't need to be fixed, because he does. God, he does. But anyone who ever offered to fix him, well; people don't just do that. They can't. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. He puts the spatula down and comes over. Moving very slowly so Robby can see him, he lifts his hand, pauses, puts it down on Robby's shoulder. </p><p>Robby feels like maybe he should pull away or something. Put his dad out of his misery. But he doesn't. </p><p>"Thank you," Robby's dad says, seriously. Like it's an important thing to say. "I'm glad you're here."</p><p>Robby ducks his head. "Yeah," he says. </p><p>They stand there for a little while and then Robby's dad says, "fuck!" and has to go back to his bologna.</p><p>Robby leans against the counter and drinks his coffee. He could go and sit at the table but he doesn't want to. It's kind of nice, like when Robby was a kid and his mom would burn pancakes.</p><p>Robby's dad reaches past him to put some bread in the toaster. "Think he's slept enough?" </p><p>Robby sips his coffee. "I wouldn't say that," he says. "But I wouldn't not say it."</p><p>Robby's dad grins at him. "Diaz!" he yells. "Get your ass up!“</p><p>Both of them are silent, listening: and then Robby's door creaks open and Miguel emerges. </p><p>"Ugh," Miguel says, raking his fingers through his hair. He's wearing boxers and nothing else; Robby lets himself look, lets Miguel see him looking. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "Put a shirt on, Diaz."</p><p>"Oh," Miguel says, blushing all the way down his neck. "Sorry, Sensei."</p><p>"Yeah, don't make a habit of it," Robby's dad says. "Robby has work, are you coming to the dojo with me?" </p><p>Miguel blinks, covering a yawn with his hand. "Really? Even though we don't have the dojo?" </p><p>"LaRusso'll get over it," Robby's dad says. "Plates, Robby?" </p><p>"Tory's picking me up after work," Robby says. "So don't hold back on my account." Usually when he says something like this it's a little bit spiteful but right now it's okay. It feels weird, like if someone took Robby and put him in the version of his life someone like Sam would think he deserved to have. But he takes the plates down, and forks for good measure, and they all sit down for breakfast together. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Mr LaRusso is wearing joggers and a hoodie when Robby knocks on the office door. "Hey, Robby," he says, getting up. "Is your dad here?" </p><p>"Yeah, he's out back," Robby says. "Should I tell him to come in?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso shakes his head. "I'll go." And then he steps closer to Robby, that familiar worried twist curling his mouth. "Are you okay? It sounded -" </p><p>"I'm okay," Robby says. "Thanks, Mr LaRusso."</p><p>Mr LaRusso looks at Robby the way adults are always looking at him - like Robby is delicate, or feral; either way, something to be treated with caution. Mr LaRusso is better at it than most of them, though not quite as good as Mrs LaRusso. It makes Robby wonder who asked him about all those black eyes Robby's dad gave Mr LaRusso when he was a kid.</p><p>Not that Mr LaRusso didn't give as good as he got, the way Robby's dad tells it. Robby was skeptical once he met Mr LaRusso, who has the energy of a very optimistic cartoon mouse, but Mr LaRusso really can kick ass when push comes to shove.</p><p>"Okay," Mr LaRusso is saying. "Well, if you ever need to talk-"</p><p>Maybe Mr LaRusso misses Robby, too. Because it's been five and a half months and it's not like Robby used to tell him everything - Robby didn't even tell him about Sam, she did that - but he was Mr LaRusso's first student, and Mr LaRusso does care about him. But Robby has a dad. A real dad, not just a karate dad. </p><p>So. </p><p>Maybe Robby is just feeling fucked up because his dad's karate dad - Robby's karate-grandfather? - turned out to be psychotic.<em> Who knows what's going on in that head, Keene? </em>That's what Luke used to ask.</p><p>Robby's thinking kinda hard so he just follows Mr LaRusso on autopilot, notices that there's a little stain on the front of his hoodie and his stubble's grown in again, and before he realises it he's leaning up against the back wall of the building so Mr LaRusso won't see him when he goes up to Robby's dad's car and leans down to talk to him.</p><p>Robby can't hear what Mr LaRusso's saying. He's too far off. But he can see the shape of Mr LaRusso's body, the way he slumps which he almost never does, unless he's with Mrs LaRusso, or his mom. Or, fucking great, Robby's dad. </p><p>Robby's <em> gay dad</em>. That's not the thing to think about. It isn't. Robby's dad is fucked up about a lot of things, and for real, like seriously fucked up about this, but for once in Robby's dad's life it's a kind of fucked up that isn't actively spilling out and hurting Robby. Maybe it was when Robby was a kid, even beyond the normal ways Robby's dad was toxic when Robby was a kid, but right now it's not. Right now it's maybe - it could be good. Robby doesn't know. It's not like, an excuse. But it means that there's at least one thing about Robby's dad that Robby didn't factor in, when he was making lists of all the ways his dad sucked. </p><p>Robby's dad raises his voice. "LaRusso," he says, firm and resonant, the kind of voice that can cut through a whole class of Cobra Kai. "Not right now, okay? Just - later. Not now."</p><p>Mr LaRusso drops his head. It looks like he's saying something, but Robby can't hear it. </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>Robby should go inside. </p><p>Robby is going to go inside. </p><p>Robby stares for ten seconds, eight seconds, five seconds- and then he goes.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Saturdays are always busy, a rush of customers and cars to get serviced and somehow bonsai trees that need to be pruned. Robby's glad Demetri doesn't come by - he was here on Thursday, which feels like a minute ago and also a century - but he also kind of misses him. It would be nice to have Demetri's nervous little voice, reminding Robby that actually, there are people in the world who don't give a shit about his dad's weird soap opera.</p><p>Mr LaRusso is weird all day. He changes into a suit when things start to pick up but he's way less smooth than he usually is, fumbles the ball so Anoush has to take over a sale, which absolutely never happens. He works through lunch, which isn't <em> not </em>normal but usually he at least checks on Robby. By the time Robby comes back in to find that Mr LaRusso's gone home early there's a worried feeling working its way through his belly.</p><p>Robby's dad is fucking bad at feelings. But more than <em> bad at </em> he's scared of them, and like that guy, Kreese, taught him - when you're scared of something you lash out. You hurt it. </p><p>And even if everything they are is complicated, Robby's dad <em> hated </em> Mr LaRusso, for the longest time. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is so ready to see Tory's car at the end of his shift. He likes Tory most days but today it is so fucking good to see her familiar face, her sharp little mouth, the suspicious way she looks at him when he climbs into her Camry and immediately leans over to kiss her.</p><p>She kisses him back, though. "Hey, Swayze," she says, pulling back to look at him. "What's going on?" </p><p>"Just happy to see you," he says. "You want fries? I'm buying."</p><p>"Oooh, fries," she drawls.</p><p>But she lets him choose the music and doesn't bitch when it's old Misfits, and she doesn't tell him he has to change out of his stupid work shirt to be seen in public with her, and when they get a corner table at In N Out she just folds the paper down over the edges of her burger to take her first bite.</p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "You saw Miguel, right?" </p><p>She licks mustard off the corner of her mouth. "He texted," she says. "But he's with your dad, so I thought I should check on you." </p><p>Robby says, "I know where he is."</p><p>"What?" Tory says. </p><p>He has to say it or he'll think about it too much and then he won't. "Luke knows him. Beth's ex. He has an apartment. His roommate works nights."</p><p>"Luke?" Tory says. She stops moving and just stares. She has this way of looking at him. Unrelenting.</p><p>"Look," Robby says. "You need the originals." He thinks about the grainy image of Tory, the version of her looking away from the camera. The way Tory, the real Tory, couldn't look at any of them, after. </p><p>"Robby," Tory says. "What kind of a deal did you make?"</p><p>Robby doesn't <em> regret </em> telling her about Luke. It was good to have someone who would understand the Luke shit, the way he understands, kind of, when she talks about Beth. But it's fucking annoying right now, when he is trying to tell her something important, that she needs to know. "Tory-" </p><p>"Look," she says, putting her burger down on the tray. Her mouth flattens into a grim line. "That guy is bad fucking news." </p><p>"They're all bad fucking news," Robby says. "And at least this one can help you, okay? It's not gonna come back to bite you."</p><p>"I don't think so," Tory says. She reaches across the table to pick up one of Robby's fries, examine it thoughtfully and then snap it in half. "Look, if it just ends up fucking you over then we're back in the same place we started, aren't we?"</p><p>Robby ignores that, because <em> obviously </em>it's not the same and Tory is being a kind of stupid she normally isn't. "It's already done," he says. "We can pick up Miguel after he's done with my dad."</p><p>"What happened to 'karate for defense only'?" </p><p>"It's defense of <em> you</em>," Robby says. Maybe his voice cracks. "Tory, please-"</p><p>She closes her eyes. Her eyelashes are light against her skin. "I-" That tiny wobble in her voice, that's something that would be enormous in someone else, but Tory is like Robby, so it isn't. </p><p>"Remember what Diaz is always telling me? You have to let people help you." He doesn't mean to say it like that, like he's begging her. But maybe he is. Maybe he just wants something to be easy. For once in the universe there is a simple solution to a simple problem, and it is within reach. </p><p>She takes a long, deep breath. "I want Hawk," she says. "You have to let him help."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. </p><p>"That's the deal," Tory says. Brittle, like glass; strong, like steel. "Please." </p><p>Robby nods. "Okay." </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tory loves this stupid playground. Robby thinks it's weird and kind of depressing, like the kind of place British kids would do drugs in a Netflix show moonlighting as a PSA. But he let her drive him here, and he scrolled through his texts until he found the one from the unsaved number, and he sent her the screenshot. So he's in it. </p><p>Tory is lying on her back in the grass, and Robby is sitting on the edge of the carousel. Miguel is sitting cross-legged next to Tory. </p><p>Hawk is also here. He's lying on his back next to Tory and Miguel. </p><p>(<em>I didn't want to tell Aisha</em>, Tory said. It's too much. </p><p>Aisha is the closest of them to Miyagi-do, at least in spirit. In practice, like Miguel, she's ride or die for Robby's dad.</p><p>It just means that Aisha has reservations, like normal people do. But this situation isn't normal. So.)</p><p>Hawk drove Miguel here. He looks nervous, insofar as Hawk Moskowitz is capable of looking nervous, which is to say not that nervous. He looks more homicidal slash constipated, which is absolutely a thing Robby's dad if not outright created at least encouraged. He has to pillow his head on his hands or the mohawk gets squished into the grass, which is funny. </p><p>Miguel reaches down, resting his hand on Tory's shoulder. "It's up to you," he says. "Whatever you want to do." </p><p>Tory turns her face away from Miguel, to Hawk. He looks back at her.</p><p>Robby hates that. It's not fair that he does, but he does. He doesn't <em> hate </em> Hawk, because Hawk is Tory and Miguel's friend. But he really, really, does not like that guy.</p><p>"Hey," Hawk says, quietly. "He's right. Whatever you want, Tor."</p><p>Tory says, "Strike hard, right?" </p><p>"No mercy," Hawk and Miguel say, in unison.</p><p>Jesus, that's creepy. </p><p>As if Miguel's read Robby's mind, he says, "I need to talk to you, Robby." He leans forward onto his hands, looking at Robby in that stupid way he does. Like Robby matters, like Robby is important. Like without Robby the world would be worse. </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. He gets up and reaches a hand down for Miguel, pulling him up with an exaggerated <em> oof</em>. </p><p>"Hey," Miguel says. He dusts the knees of his jeans, grinning at Robby, that sweet bright smile. He's transparent like glass so Robby sees the nervous edge and it cuts the inside of his own mouth. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. </p><p>"Bye," Tory says, rolling her eyes. </p><p>They don't go too far, just to the swing set. Robby sits down, stretching his legs all the way out, rocks back and forth. </p><p>Miguel doesn't sit. He says, "LaRusso is living at Miyagi-do."</p><p>"What?" Robby says. </p><p>"You should talk to your dad," Miguel says. He looks twisted up, coiled. "I don't think you should come with us tonight. I don't want you to." </p><p>"What?" Robby shakes his head. "Is this more fucking snake shit, Miguel, because- " </p><p>"It's Tory shit," Miguel says, quietly. "And you know it is. And you really need to talk to your dad." He bites his lip. "I know you think you don't care about your dad, but you do. And I think you're gonna feel really shitty if you don't see him now."</p><p>"What's going on?" Robby asks. "Is he like - is Kreese going to hurt him?" <em> Again? </em> </p><p>"Not like that," Miguel says. "But -" </p><p>Robby digs his heels in. Reaches forward to catch the collar of Miguel's shirt, pulling him in so Robby can look him right in the lightly-freckled face. "Diaz?" </p><p>"Keene," Miguel says. He doesn't give anything away. Just a little hitch in his breath, the slight widening in his eyes. Proximity is a drug and it's nice to see Robby's still got it. "You know I -" </p><p>Robby's not stupid. He knows lots of things. He knows that Miguel has not picked Robby as a temporary thing, or not consciously, anyway. He knows that both Miguel and Tory think of Robby as seriously as they think of each other. He knows that they were serious from the first moment. </p><p>Robby knows that reality crashes hard into intentions. He sincerely doubts Mr LaRusso ever thought he was going to talk to Robby's dad again, let alone whatever they're doing right now. Sharing a karate dojo. (Is that what the kids call it these days?)</p><p>Robby is not a Cobra Kai. He doesn't want to be. He <em> doesn't</em>. </p><p>But he wants Miguel and Tory. He wants them so much it scares him, because the last time he wanted anything that much - Wanting things doesn't go well in his family. Mom's in rehab, and Robby's dad, well. Robby's dad wants things and then they tear down everything he's ever loved. So. </p><p>Robby knows this thing is delicate. He <em> knows</em>, okay? He's seen the end from the beginning. Maybe he's just standing here trying to hold back the flood. Maybe. "Please," he says.</p><p>"Robby," Miguel says. He catches Robby's face, turns his mouth a little. "I'm still not used to the new hair. I love it, though." </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says, and then they are kissing, a hot long kiss, Miguel pushing forward and Robby yielding, letting him- And then Miguel says, "Please?" </p><p>And Robby bites his lip and says, "Okay."</p><p>Maybe Miguel is trying to hold back the flood, too.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He drives Tory's car to the apartment so Tory and Miguel and Hawk can just be in the one car, Hawk's. Tory kisses his cheek and Miguel looks at him with those big eyes and even Hawk says, "Thanks, man," in a way that makes Robby grit his teeth a little but it's fine. </p><p>Robby's dad is sitting on the couch. He looks good, for Robby's dad. He's wearing a t-shirt and his hair is wet, so maybe he had a shower. That's always encouraging.</p><p>"Hey," Robby says. "I thought you might be on a date."</p><p>Robby's dad shrugs. "C'mere," he says, looking up at Robby. "Your mom said you loved this movie when you were a kid. There's no Blockbuster anymore but I rented it on my phone."</p><p>"I was six," Robby says. "You know I'm seventeen now, right?" </p><p>"Yeah, well. Can we just pretend I get a do over?" There's a little bit of an edge, but not mean like Robby's dad can get. Just like he means it, like he wants it to matter.</p><p>Robby shrugs back, but he sits down next to his dad and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. "I haven't seen it in years."</p><p>The TV's hovering on the title card. <em> Wall-E. </em></p><p>"I made hot pockets," Robby's dad says, carefully not looking at Robby.</p><p>"Sick," Robby says.</p><p>He forgot that he liked this movie. The little robot is cute. He used to like it because his mom would make a big bowl of popcorn and he would lie with his head in her lap: one for you, one for me. Robby would watch Wall-E and fall asleep during Dirty Dancing and at the end of the movie his mom would say, <em> baby you're getting so big </em> and make a big thing about picking him up to take him to bed. </p><p>She was home a lot when he was a kid, when he was too little to be alone. There wasn't anyone else to be with him, so she was home or he was with her. It sounds bad when he says it like that but it wasn't bad; it's how lots of moms are. Tory's, for sure. Miguel's, even with his grandma. All Robby's friends when he was growing up, just running around the block and climbing all over the shitty broken fixtures at the places Robby's mom could afford.</p><p>It only sounds bad when you describe it to Sam, or Luke. But it wasn't bad. It was Robby's. Robby's mom loves him, has always loved him. That has never been in doubt, even when everything else was a mess. </p><p>It's just that sometimes you can love someone and still hurt them. Or, like the people on the spaceship, you can just. Not see that there's a world outside of you.</p><p>Robby always made his mom watch through to the end of the credits. To watch the seedling WALL-E and EVE save grow into a tree.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> - </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Before Robby goes to bed he checks his phone.</p><p><em> don't freak out. </em> It's Tory. No offense to Tory but the list of people you automatically believe when they say don't freak out does not have Tory at the top of it. <em> but uhhhhhhhhh cops got hawk at the station &amp; they wouldn't let us come in. DO NOT tell your dad. </em></p><p>And then, ten minutes later. <em> DO NOT!!!!!! ROBBY!!!!!!!! </em></p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Shit, I gotta go," Miguel says. "Tory'll text. Bye." </p><p>Robby sits down on the edge of his bed. His stomach turns over. It would be so fucking easy to get up and tell his dad. To get in the car and drive. </p><p>But she said <i>don't</i>. </p><p>So. </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: infidelity, teens having sex, canon-typical violence, robby-typical reasonable responses to adversity</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>Robby's dad said, "LaRusso moved out," and Robby said, "Oh?" </p><p>Robby's dad chewed his hot pocket and then he fumbled for the remote and hit pause. On the screen the robots were floating in space. Dancing. </p><p>Robby settled back into the couch. It was hard to tell with his dad when to talk and when it would spook him. Miguel had it down but Robby might as well have flipped a coin every time he did it. </p><p>"I - you should know that I kept my promise to you, okay? Nothing happened between us."</p><p>Robby nodded. He felt like he'd been running since yesterday. Maybe before that. Maybe since he'd walked in on his dad and Mr LaRusso. It felt like he was a car battery that had been overcharged and was sparking everywhere. Like his skin hurt. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad said. "You can ask me."</p><p>Robby bit his lip. He felt numb. "I-" </p><p>"It's okay," Robby's dad said. He looked at Robby, level and even. Like he was holding something back, but not in a way where it was fighting to spill out of him. "I always let you down, remember?" </p><p>Robby swallowed. "Okay," he said. "What did you say to him?" </p><p>Robby's dad leaned forward, bracing his hands against his knees. "I told him what happened with Kreese. That it wasn't going anywhere good. He said okay. He asked if we needed anything. If you were okay, specifically."</p><p>"Okay." Robby waited. </p><p>"I said you were okay. I don't know, I thought you'd tell him if you wanted him to check on you. That's right?" </p><p>Robby nodded. Close enough. He like, loved Mr LaRusso. Mr LaRusso was his karate dad. But it wasn't like with Miguel and Robby's dad. They didn't hang out and talk about boys. "Nothing else?" </p><p>"Nothing else," Robby's dad said. He turned his hands over each other, looking away. "I said thank you for letting us have the dojo. And he said he was going to be there more often, but he'd leave if I needed more space. And then he said - he'd moved out." </p><p>Oh, there it was. Robby had known it was coming all day, since the morning, since Mr LaRusso looking like shit, and it had snapped into place with Miguel's clear, careful, voice. But - </p><p>"Fuck," he said. He felt like he was drowning, like he was stuck in a rip, being pulled down underneath the waves, down somewhere there were sharks. "<em>Fuck</em>." Why hadn't Sam called him? Why wouldn't- "Why didn't he tell me?" </p><p>Robby's dad dragged his hand over his mouth. "I asked him not to," he said. "I thought it would be easier for you if it came from me."</p><p>"Because you didn't tell him that I told you it had to end," Robby said, putting the pieces together. </p><p>"Yes," Robby's dad said. "It wasn't something he needed to know. I didn't want him to look at you like - well. It doesn't matter."</p><p>Robby's eyes hurt. He wished Miguel was there, to sit with his shoulder next to Robby's, to know what to say to Robby's dad. He pulled at a loose thread in the knee of his jeans. Something feral roiled inside him, the thing that wanted to come out and play when Tory wanted to spar, the thing that wanted to rip Hawk's throat out whenever he opened his smart mouth. The thing that made him like his dad, that he crushed whenever it breathed. </p><p>He said, "Is that how you look at me?" <em> Too weak to let things change. Ready to fall apart. </em></p><p>"No," Robby's dad said. So fast it had to be true. "I just know LaRusso, okay? You know I do."</p><p>"Is it -" Robby began. His tongue felt too big. "You think it's real? He's leaving? Since you know him." </p><p>Robby's dad said, "Robby, I - can't even begin to know. That's a marriage." </p><p>"I <em> know </em>," Robby said. "Fuck." </p><p>"That's what I said," Robby's dad said. He reached out and Robby let himself be pulled, swaying into his dad's warm shoulder. He smelled like beer and cigarettes and aftershave and his arms were strong, stronger than Robby had ever let himself believe. "Hell of a time to do it."</p><p>Robby took a breath and pulled back, away. "He didn't ask you for anything?"</p><p>"Well," Robby's dad said. "He -" and then he looked at Robby, clear and thoughtful, and stopped what he was saying. "No. He didn't say anything."</p><p>"Not even before?" Robby asked. "When you were like, beginning?" It was insurmountable. An alien, enormous concept. Something that Robby's brain could not metabolise. Mr LaRusso not in his big house, with his beautiful family. With <em> Mrs LaRusso</em>. Mr LaRusso, alone.</p><p>"He loved her," Robby's dad said. He shook his head. "At the beginning, maybe all the way through - he didn't know what he was doing. I didn't know what I was doing either, but I didn't have as much to lose. Except you, obviously." </p><p>"Right," Robby said. "Obviously." </p><p>The light was flickering. It was filthy, there was so much fucking dust in the glass. Neither of them ever cleaned. Robby's dad was good with handy shit though, changing lights and stuff. Robby's mom had never done much of that shit, there had always been a guy to deal with it when Robby was growing up. None of them ever bothered to explain any of it to him, though.</p><p>Unbidden he remembered lying in bed with Luke one night: it had been raining outside and theoretically they had been doing homework for their respective classes. In practice Robby had been lying on top of Luke and Luke had tangled his hand in Robby's hair and bitten his lip hard, not hard enough to bleed but hard enough to bruise. And Luke had said, <em> you know you have daddy issues, right? </em> It had rippled over Robby like an electric shock. He had tried to roll away but Luke had caught him, those big strong hands on his hips, that careful soft voice he only used when he needed to gentle Robby, like Robby was a wild horse. <em> It's okay. All of us do</em>.</p><p>"Robby?" </p><p>Robby shrugged. "Are you gonna-" He was clenching his right hand so hard the tendons ached. His nails would leave marks in his palm, he was sure of it. "Go for it?"</p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad said. "I keep my promises, okay?" </p><p><em> And Mr LaRusso doesn't. </em>The stupid robots on the stupid TV were still dancing, frozen forever. "Are you gay now? That's what you said." </p><p>Robby's dad blinked, like the change in subject had caught him off-guard, but he recovered as quickly as he always had. "I did a little reading," he said. </p><p>"Jesus," Robby said. "Did you let Hawk show you Reddit? Because-" Shit. He had been trying to not think about Hawk. The way Hawk was somewhere that Robby was supposed to be, the way Robby had been - </p><p>Robby's dad said, "No. I did my own searching on the internet, thanks, smartass." He shrugged. "Fuck. You want a beer?" </p><p>"Okay," Robby said. Why the hell not.</p><p>Robby's dad got up and went to the fridge. Robby watched his back, the wide hunching slant of his shoulders. It was weird to think of his dad as like, a constant. He wasn't sure he was ready to believe <em> that </em>, not yet, but he was definitely closer to it than he'd ever been in his life. </p><p>"You know," Robby said, "this is definitely the longest you've ever stuck around before. Like, ever."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad said, pausing with the fridge door open, so the light spread out and caught his face, throwing all the lines into harsh relief. "I -"</p><p>"It's just," Robby said, cutting him off for both their sakes. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be."</p><p>Robby's dad cracked a smile. "Thanks, kid."</p><p>"It's definitely bad in other ways, though," Robby said, just to make sure he didn't get a big head about it. "Like, there are a ton of terrible things I would not have imagined."</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Robby's dad said. He tossed Robby a Coors and shut the fridge. "Do you, uh- Do you <em> identify </em>-"</p><p>Robby froze, finger stuck in the tab. "Jesus christ," he said. "Let me get a mouthful first, will you?"</p><p>Robby's dad choked laughing, doubled over and hacked out a cough. </p><p>"Christ," Robby said. "You really do need to eat a vegetable, Miguel's right, you're gonna die of scurvy."</p><p>"I drink orange juice," Robby's dad said. "Fuck." He straightened and came over to the couch.</p><p>Usually when Robby's dad came closer Robby would move over a little. Not like, to make a thing of it, but because it felt better to have some space in between them. This time he waited until his dad sat down, a full cushion between them, and it felt okay so he stayed put. </p><p>Robby's dad cracked his Coors open, took a long drink and made eye contact with Robby until he did the same. That felt normal. "So?" </p><p>"I asked first," Robby said. But his dad genuinely looked like he was going to turn green so he shrugged. "Bi, I guess. If I had to pick. Mostly I- the big time I was in love, that was a guy. But I've liked girls, I meant it when I was with Sam and I mean it now, with Tory." </p><p>"Right," Robby's dad said. </p><p>"I know you think it's weird," Robby said. "I think it's weird, too. But it's better than anything I've ever had before, okay? Tory's not, like - if I wanted to just be with Miguel that would be something different. I'd be different. She matters."</p><p>Robby's dad nodded. "Okay," he said. </p><p>Robby looked down into the top of his can, where the beer had spilled out of the mouth-hole and run into the edges. "You and my mom."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby's dad said. "Well, you know that was a mistake start to finish, because you were there."</p><p>Robby flinched. He didn't mean to; it wasn't something he hadn't thought every day of his life. He covered it as fast as he could.</p><p>It must not have been fast enough, because Robby's dad put his can down and made like he was going to reach for Robby, pulling his hand back at the last second. "Not everything about it was a mistake," Robby's dad said, in a low voice, rough like it had been yanked out of him with a fish hook. "You're never a mistake. I'm - what I did, to you, about you - all that's fucked up and I fucked it up. But not you."</p><p>Robby said, "Okay." </p><p>Robby's dad said, "I thought I loved your mom, for a long time. It wasn't until you and Miguel that I realized anything could be different. I loved her as much as I could have loved anyone as like me as she is."</p><p>Robby felt himself smile. It was weak and thin but it was something. "Finally, you admit it." </p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby's dad said. "Like she'd ever say it."</p><p>"That's true," Robby said. He tipped his head onto the back of the couch. "None of them? Ever?" </p><p>"I don't know how to explain it to you," Robby's dad said. "I thought it was how it was supposed to be. And then it - wasn't anymore."</p><p>Robby sighed. "Yeah, you said." And then he felt mean, because after all, Robby's dad had basically been pickled in Coors for thirty years and it sucked and it had fucked Robby up for a long time, too, but it really had fucked up Robby's dad most of all. "It was weird for me at first, too. Not as weird. But I guess it wasn't something I'd thought about, ever, and then - it was." </p><p>Robby's dad took a long drink. "Robby," he said, and then he stopped talking and drank again. It took two more swallows before he got up the nerve he was looking for. "Whenever you want to talk about him - I'll listen, okay? I know I'm not good at it. But I'll be good at it for you."</p><p>Robby's fingers slipped on the can and it fell out of his hands, spraying bottom-shelf beer all over his jeans. "Thanks," he said. He meant it. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"What the fuck, Diaz?" Robby hisses. He's holding onto his phone so tightly it feels like it might crack, but it's not like he's about to let go. "The cops?" His room feels small at the best of times but it feels really small now. He's hyper-aware of the thinness of the walls, that his dad is one room over. </p><p>"Fuck," Miguel says. Robby pictures his face, the way he'd hold the phone to his ear and look away. "It's not as bad as it sounds. It's just, Hawk's in the station, and they won't let us in the station. So that's not great."</p><p>"In and out," Robby says. "You said, <em> it'll be fine, Robby. </em> You said, <em> go hang out with your dad, Robby </em> . You said, <em> sure, we'll take the psycho kid, no big. </em>"</p><p>"Okay," Miguel says. "I can hear that you're pissed off, and you have a right to be pissed off, but if I could ask you to hold it for like, fifteen minutes? Maybe half an hour? That would be awesome."</p><p>"Fuck you," Robby says. "Where are you? I'm coming."</p><p>Tory's voice in the background, and then a brief sound of the phone changing hands. "Hey, Keene." Her voice is tight. "It's okay, by the way, we got my USB, thanks for asking."</p><p>He feels bad, obviously. "Shit," he says. "I'm sorry, I -" </p><p>"I'm just messing with you." He can see the way she’d smile, all teeth. "It's fine. Thank you. You can go back to yelling."</p><p>"My dad's here," Robby hisses. "Like, right here. If you don't want me to come you better have a good fucking reason."</p><p>"Robby," she says. "Do you or do you not have a record?"</p><p>"Fuck you," he says, automatic. Bites it back. "Fuck."</p><p>"Yeah, well," she says. </p><p>"It's sealed," he says. "You know it doesn't - "</p><p>"It does," she says. "Look. I'll call you if something changes but there isn't - we just have to wait. Hawk's good with white guys, it's his superpower. Except you, obviously. Just - wait."</p><p>Robby presses his fingers to the bridge of his nose. "You're kidding," he says.</p><p>"It's okay," she says. "You don't even like Hawk."</p><p>"Tory," he says. Maybe his voice cracks, maybe she can hear how he's feeling or maybe she's just tired and the feelings are bouncing back on her. He walks from his bed to the door, to the window, to the bed. Back again.</p><p>"It's okay," she says. "Hey. Me too. Both of us, too. We're fine. There was only a little bit of arson."</p><p>"A little bit-" He sounds like - not his mom. Maybe Sam's mom, when Robby's dad and Sam's dad are getting into a standoff by the pool. Or, when they were getting into standoffs by the pool. Maybe that's not happening so much anymore. Not the point, Keene, get it together. "Are you-" </p><p>"Yeah," she says. "I'll tell you when I see you. But - thank you, okay? For all of it. For staying put so I could call you right now."</p><p>"Doesn't feel like a lot of anything," Robby says. </p><p>"Yeah, yeah," she says. "Talk to Diaz, okay? He's freaking out."</p><p>"I'm freaking out," Robby manages, but he can hear the phone passing from hand to hand so he doubts she hears it. Not that she'd pay attention if she had. Fuck. </p><p>Fucking Hawk. This is why he said - </p><p>But, fine. She's right. He does, technically, have a record. Luke doesn't, of course. He wouldn't. But Robby has - Robby's seventeen. So it won't count, in theory. </p><p>"Hey, Diaz," he says.</p><p>"Hey, Keene." A deep breath. "Miss you." </p><p>"Me too," Robby says. "You sure I can't - you know, I love when my dad loses his shit, he'd love it if I took his car." </p><p>"It's okay," Miguel says. "This is - good. Thank you." </p><p>Robby swallows. "Okay." And then - "What happened? Can you talk? Are you okay?" </p><p>"We'll be home soon," Miguel says. "It all went - I mean, he was an asshole, obviously. But three against one, so. It's good that you told Tory what to look for, especially the backups. We got all the pictures, he said some shitty things, Hawk punched him maybe a little too hard, and then things got hairy."</p><p>"<em> That </em>'s when things got hairy," Robby says. He hates this. He sounds like the boring girlfriend in an action movie, telling Jason Statham to come home and mow the lawn. He should be allowed to punch someone in the face.</p><p>When he was talking to Luke, trading a favour to be called in at a later date for this address, Luke said, <em> I hate that you fight, it makes me worry all the time. </em> Robby had swallowed back bile. </p><p>"Shit, I gotta go," Miguel says. "Tory'll text. Bye." </p><p>Robby sits down on the edge of his bed. His stomach turns over. It would be so fucking easy to get up and tell his dad. To get in the car and drive. </p><p>But she said <em> don't</em>. </p><p>So. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"Jesus Christ," Robby's dad says. "What happened to you, Nichols?" </p><p>Robby's out his door and in the living room at supersonic speed. See, hanging out with Miguel's rubbing off, he's starting to think in superheroes. </p><p>Tory looks okay, though. Her hair's up in a messy ponytail and her mascara is smudged. She's wearing Miguel's jacket and she looks fine. Just tired. Just holding one hand behind her back. "Nothing that stuck," she quips, stepping through the front door so Robby's dad can shut it behind her. "Robby home, Sensei?" </p><p>"Hi," Robby says. He feels extremely obvious, like anyone looking at him will just see Robby, in boxers and bare feet, stupid haircut so he stopped looking like someone he doesn't want to be anymore. </p><p>"Hey, babe," she says. "Diaz had to sneak in through his window, so-" She raises one shoulder, drops it. "You think I can stay here tonight, Sensei?" </p><p>Robby's dad looks back and forth between them. Robby used to think his dad was easy to read and now he thinks maybe that's not quite right. But Robby's dad sighs. "I assume you know how to use protection? Both of you?"</p><p>Robby says, "<em>Dad</em>."</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "I'm serious. I know you're your own people, that's fine, but this is serious."</p><p>"I'm on the pill," Tory says. "It's fine, Robby, no big. Not the first time." </p><p>"Yeah, well," Robby says. He crosses his arms over his chest. He feels like he should - reach out, catch her shoulder, kiss her - but she looks brittle and tired, the kind of raw-edged that means you gotta wait. "If you want you can shower. It's uh, kind of gross in there, but it's not that bad." </p><p>That's a little bit of an understatement - neither Robby nor his dad is very good at keeping shit picked up - but it's not like there's <em> mould </em>or anything. Robby totally sprayed it like, last week. </p><p>"It's not a school night," Robby's dad says, "but don't stay up too late, okay?"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "Thanks." </p><p>Robby's dad sighs, looks like he's going to say something else, but he doesn't. "Night."</p><p>"Night," Robby says. </p><p>The sound of Robby's dad's door shutting feels so loud, like it rattles the whole apartment. It's just Tory and Robby, with this huge space between them.</p><p>"Hey," Tory says. She digs her hands into the pockets of her jeans. </p><p>"Hi," Robby says.</p><p>"It's uh," she says, very quickly. "It's okay. He got out. It's all fine. Like I said, he's great at white guys."</p><p>Well, that's not the whole story. But it's 2am on a Sunday morning so Robby is going to shut the fuck up and let it lie. "I'll find you a towel." </p><p>"Are you saying I look like shit?" </p><p>"Only a little bit," Robby says. "I bet the other guy looks worse."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad is sitting on the edge of his bed, looking out the window. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. Behind him the sound of the shower runs. </p><p>His dad turns. His eyes are bright but he looks tired like Robby feels. "You should go to bed," he says. "It's been a busy couple days."</p><p>"Now that's an understatement," Robby says. </p><p>His dad laughs. "What's up? Shouldn't you be with your girlfriend?"</p><p>Robby shrugs. Suddenly he feels really fucking stupid, but he might as well follow through. "We're uh, we're not having sex. Just so you know."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby's dad says. "What?" And then - "No, don't answer that. It's fine."</p><p>"It's not your business," Robby agrees. He looks down at his feet. There's a Slim Jim wrapper on the carpet, which is fucking disgusting but if you looked under Robby's desk there'd probably be some cereal still, so whatever. "Just, you know. So you can feel reassured or whatever. Nobody's getting deflowered or anything." </p><p>"Yeah, okay," Robby's dad says, like it's about to be the start of something real smart, and then he thinks better of it. "Hey, thanks for telling me. If you wanna talk about it, I can-"</p><p>"You probably shouldn't run it by Miguel," Robby says. "I think even he probably would think that was weird."</p><p>Robby's dad makes a face. "I can ask the internet," he says. </p><p>"Don't do that," Robby says. "That's just gonna be porn." But he smiles and his dad smiles back. </p><p>"It's uh," his dad says. "You guys are all okay?" </p><p>Robby shrugs. "Yeah," he says. "Thanks." </p><p>He shuts the door behind him and goes back to his room to wait. </p><p>Tory is sitting cross-legged on Robby's bed. Her hair is piled on top of her head, damp tendrils curling around her face. She's wearing an old Cobra Kai t shirt. Probably Miguel's, but it was in Robby's dresser. </p><p>He sits down beside her. Not close enough that they're touching but close enough that they could be touching, if she wanted. "You good?" </p><p>"Been better," she says. She tips her head sideways onto his shoulder. Not looking at him, but that's okay. "Miguel texted, he's in, it's fine. His mom's just been-"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "That makes sense." He rests his hand on her knee, brushing his thumb along the smooth skin. They're almost never together alone like this, specifically. Usually Miguel is here.</p><p>"He just walked out," Tory says. "It was weird. It's not supposed to be like that, but. Whatever. It's fine."</p><p>Robby hums. "I wouldn't know." </p><p>"I'm sorry," she says. The weight of her rests against him, unyielding. "I just. I'm here now."</p><p>"I can sleep on the couch if you want," he says.</p><p>"Robby," she says. "Don't. Please."</p><p>"Sorry." He presses a kiss to her temple and gets up, turns out the light. The darkness settles over them like a blanket. </p><p>She rolls into his chest, chin digging into his shoulder. She smells like the dollar store shower gel Robby's mom used to buy him. </p><p>He wraps his arm around her, pulling her against him. Lets his palm settle on the edge of her hip. "I'm glad you're okay."</p><p>"Me too," she says. And then, muffled by the skin of his throat, "I thought it would feel different."</p><p>He draws one circle and then another. Her skin is soft from the shower. "Yeah?" </p><p>"I'm glad it's over," she says. "It sucked. Every time I just remembered how I felt, the whole time. Except worse." </p><p>"Have you talked to her?" he asks. </p><p>"No," she says. He feels her blink against his cheek. "You're talking to him, though."</p><p>"I thought it would feel different," Robby says. "Eventually. I thought it would eventually feel better." It sounds dramatic to say it out loud, kind of stupid. Like someone on a therapist's couch on TV. </p><p>"I keep thinking about -" Her breath puffs against his skin. "I don't know why she did it - took the pictures, lied about it, held them over me. I know why he did it. That makes sense; he didn't care about me, not at all. But she was my friend, you know? It wasn't supposed to be like that." </p><p>He doesn't know what to say. He knows what he felt like: ripped open, skinned, laid bare. But it wasn't the same. Nothing is ever the same as anything else. That's true, isn't it? </p><p>His bed barely fits both of them. Her thigh is draped over his hips and he can feel the shape of her body pressed into his. It feels like this all the time but it's also not always like this. </p><p>"I'm glad you're here," he says. </p><p>She levers herself up onto her elbows, looking at him in the moonlight, down her nose with her sharp bright eyes. "I didn't not trust you," she says. "That's not why I asked you not to come."</p><p>He doesn't look away. "I didn't ask."</p><p>She doesn't blink for a long time. A long, silent stare, offered and answered. "You already know what I look like," she says, finally. "You didn't need to see it again." </p><p>Robby doesn't move. He feels like a mirror on the edge of a cliff, balancing just right, so Tory can see him. </p><p>"I just didn't want to see it twice," she says. "I didn't want that for either of us." </p><p>"We're not the same person," he says, gently. "Sometimes it feels like it. But that doesn't mean it's true." </p><p>"Sometimes it feels like it," she says. "Sometimes that's enough." She swallows. Her elbows dig into his torso but he doesn't say anything and she doesn't move. "If you were there I wouldn't have done it. I would have let you do it. And you would have done it for me." </p><p>"Oh," he says. "<em>Oh.</em>" He would have, probably. Without thinking he'd have stepped in front of her, said all the things that needed to be said. Miguel couldn't do it because he doesn't <em> know</em>. But Robby knows. Or, he knows enough.</p><p>She bites the corner of her mouth. "Is that-"</p><p>"Yeah," he says, and he leans up to kiss her. "Yeah, it's okay." </p><p>She curves her hand around his cheek. Her nails dig into his scalp, where there used to be all that hair and now there isn't. Now you're a real boy, Robby. "It's been a minute, Keene," she says, breathing a little unsteady, that sharpness she gets when she's off-balance. "You wanna- try it out?" </p><p>It's a question that's not a question. It's <em> I was scared </em> and <em> I still am </em> and <em> I trust you. </em> </p><p>He laughs against her mouth. All of those things repeated back to her. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, let's do it."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>After, Tory says, "I thought it would be worse."</p><p>Robby rubs his hand over his mouth. "Yeah?"</p><p>"You know what I mean," she says, lying on her back on top of the blanket, stretching her arms above her head. The line of her body is pale in the moonlight. </p><p>He does. He knows what it's like to feel like your body isn't really yours. He's been feeling it, too, because of Luke on the phone and the world falling apart. "Feel better?" </p><p>She scrunches up her nose. "Fuck you," she says. "You didn't just take one for the team, don't make that face."</p><p>"What face?" He feels himself grin. It's easy to turn his face sideways and kiss her cheek, rest his palm across the bare stretch of her belly. Her breath picks up, just a little. "I feel better, too." </p><p>She laughs. "Okay, asshole." She's so much herself, like nobody could ever make her less. When he didn't know her it made him want to back away but now it makes him feel good, like the way the moon is bright simply from the sun's reflection. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel wakes the whole apartment when he comes over with a freezer lasagna. It's not his fault but his face is funny when all of them stumble out of their various doors, with bedhead. Robby's dad squints at the three of them and says, "I'm going back to bed."</p><p>Maybe Robby should feel different when he sees Miguel, but he doesn't. He feels the same. It feels just like it always does, like the world is easier and lighter and brighter because Miguel is in it. </p><p>They should tell Miguel. He fucking loves talking. They could talk it out and he would put his feet in Robby's face while he said <em> you could have called me </em> and then it would all be okay. </p><p>It would solve a lot of problems. All the problems.</p><p>Not all of the problems.</p><p>It's not late but it's not sunrise early. The sun is coming through the window in the living room and yeah, it looks like Robby's dad's shitty apartment, but it also looks like a place that Robby lives. A place where Robby feels safe.</p><p>Tory catches his eye, quirks the corner of her mouth. It's nice to be like. Seen like that. To be <em> with </em>someone.</p><p>That's what will make Miguel flinch. That's what Robby doesn't want to - it's not like Miguel doesn't <em> mean it </em> when he says he wants them both. But it's always been him at the middle of things and this thing, Robby and Tory, for once was just for them. Miguel already feels like there's a world he's locked out of, protected from, but- </p><p>Fuck.</p><p>It's not like Tory's saying anything, either. </p><p>"You wanna get pancakes?" Tory asks. She scrapes her hair back from her face and grins at Miguel. There's a specific smile she has for Miguel. There's probably one for Robby, too, but he notices the one for Miguel. It's sincere. "I could go for pancakes."</p><p>Robby remembers, suddenly, being seven years old, his mom dancing in the kitchen. She'd play <em> Walking on Sunshine </em> and sing along. "I know how to make pancakes," he says. </p><p>"Ooh, life skill," Tory says. "You go to culinary school for that?" </p><p>He flips her off.</p><p>"Hey, guys," Miguel says- </p><p>And Robby wants to kiss him, so he does.</p><p>And look at that. Everything's good.</p><p>When Robby's dad comes out of his bedroom Robby's only almost set off the fire alarm - Miguel had to open the window and then run around with his tshirt, but it was fine in the end - and there are pancakes and coffee. Robby burned three of them while Tory sat on the counter and laughed at him, but it was nice that she laughed, and it is nice that they are all together with Robby's phone in a bowl on the countertop.</p><p>Now Miguel is doing the dishes and Robby is lying on the couch, laughing as Tory commentates and dries Miguel's dishes.</p><p>"What's going on?" Robby's dad says. "Wait, I don't care." He brushes past them to go to the bathroom.</p><p>Miguel is still the best dadsitter, so he's there with a cup of coffee for Robby's dad when he comes out, <em> and </em> he saved some pancakes.</p><p>"I didn't know we had pancake mix," Robby's dad says, sitting down at the table and looking very suspiciously down at his plate.</p><p>"Yeah, you don't," Tory says. "I was surprised you had flour."</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "I eat food."</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Tory says, sipping from her mug. "Keep telling yourself."</p><p>"I like it better when I can make you do burpees when you're rude," Robby's dad says, but he's amicable about it. "Did you make this?"</p><p>"That's actually gender stereotyping," Tory says. "And I would never. Robby did."</p><p>Robby is busy listening to 80s hits on Spotify, but sure. "Mom taught me."</p><p>"Huh," Robby's dad says. "I didn't know Shan could cook." </p><p>There's a water stain on the ceiling. Maybe that's what always drips when it rains. "Just a couple things," Robby says. "She did it more when I was little."</p><p>"Right," Robby's dad says. His knife chimes against the plate. "I gotta go see LaRusso today, just some setup stuff. Diaz, you need to do your fucking homework, you're not invited."</p><p>"Sensei," Miguel protests, but Tory elbows him in the ribs and he shuts up. </p><p>Robby considers it. He doesn't know what he'd say to Mr LaRusso. He should probably say something, right? There should be something to say. </p><p>Mr LaRusso didn't say anything to Robby, though. Maybe Robby should mind his own business. It's not like Robby doesn't have his own shit to keep up with. </p><p>"I should probably," Robby says. "Math and stuff, you know."</p><p>"Right," Robby's dad says. "That's good, I'm glad." He doesn't look mad, so. </p><p>Robby yawns. "Are you gonna start looking for new space, you think?" He was lulled into it. You forget, because they're all normal and nice, and then boom! you're back in a pit of snakes and all three of them are staring at you, practically hissing. </p><p>Robby puts his hands up, palms out. "Sorry for asking." </p><p>Miguel dries his hands off on Tory's dish towel. "You met that guy," he says. "You have to know we can't let him win."</p><p>Sometimes Robby really feels like they experience two completely different worlds. Maybe they have different heads. Maybe Robby needs glasses and hearing aids. </p><p>"Sure," he says, keeping it neutral. "No mercy."</p><p>Robby's dad sighs. Okay, well, join the club. "It's working out better than I thought it would, at LaRusso's. But if it needs to change it'll change."</p><p>Robby's heard that before but he has flour on his shirt still and he felt good, bright and warm, and he doesn't want it to go away. "Sounds good." And then - "It's kind of nice to see you guys around. Even though I'm sick of you."</p><p>Tory laughs. "Yeah, whatever."</p><p>But it does feel okay now. Like something might have snapped but they headed it off. All of them, together. </p><p>"I, uh," Robby's dad starts. "I'm going to a bar with someone. Tonight."</p><p>"<em> Oh, </em>" Tory says. "What's her name? Is she cool? Is Miguel gonna call her Sensei too?" </p><p>"Uh," Robby's dad says, "his name is Ben."</p><p>"Huh," Tory says. She looks at Miguel and then over at Robby. "Oh, I see how it is. So Miguel's <em> already </em> calling him Sensei?"</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby does have math to do. But, also, Sam isn't texting him back and neither is Demetri. Shit. </p><p>"What's up?" Miguel asks. His foot bumps Robby's under the table. "You're doing that thing with your face."</p><p>"I'm not doing anything with my face," Robby says. </p><p>Tory took Robby's place on the couch, where she's scrolling through her phone. "You're doing it," she says, not looking up. "You get a line between your eyebrows."</p><p>"Wow, fuck you both," Robby says. He wants his fucking car back. God, fucking Hawk. He should have taken the loaner car Mrs LaRusso said he should take, but he felt so bad about it, and his dad has a car and Tory has a car and Sam has a car so it just didn't make sense.</p><p>Miguel says, "Hey, Robby. Say words."</p><p>"Sam won't text me back," Robby says. "And her dad moved out. That's a big deal."</p><p>"Oh, that's my cue," Tory says. "I'll go outside and smoke. You can get me when you're done." She gets up, easily, stretching her arms above her head, and comes over to kiss Miguel's cheek and then Robby's. </p><p>"It's not top secret," Robby says. He loops two fingers through the belt-loop on Tory's jeans, pulling her in. "There isn't anything else to say." </p><p>"You should go see her," Miguel says. He looks at Robby quietly, carefully. "They're your family, too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It feels like it's been forever since he was in Encino. It's as nice as it always is, though; beautiful lawn, beautiful exterior. It's a nice day, a crisp cool winter-bright blue-sky day, where the air is good and you feel like maybe everything will be okay. It's easier to believe that out here. </p><p>Mrs LaRusso gets the door. She takes one look at him, says, "Oh, Robby," and steps forward, like she's going to hug him, but then she stops. "Sorry, I-" </p><p>"It's okay, Mrs LaRusso," he says. </p><p>And then she does hug him. She smells good, like flowers and clean laundry. "Hi, honey. It's good to see you."</p><p>It is good to see her. At work it's different. </p><p>Well, now everything is different here, too. </p><p>"I know it's none of my business," Robby says. "But my dad's at Miyagi-do, so -" </p><p>Her mouth tightens. Just barely, and then it's gone. "It's okay, Robby," she says. "I don't want you to feel like - you're Sam's best friend, and I know I'm not your karate teacher, but you are always welcome here, even if my husband isn't."</p><p>Maybe that is what Robby was asking. He didn't mean to ask it. It really isn't about him. "I'm sorry," he says. And then, because he's tired, "I wish my dad didn't fuck everything up."</p><p>Her eyes widen, the barest flinch. "Oh, honey." </p><p>"I'm not a kid," Robby says. "I should have -" </p><p>"No," she says. "You're a kid." She shakes her head. "I'm going to - fucking Daniel. Bad enough he put himself in that situation, to put you in it too-"</p><p>"It wasn't his fault," Robby says. "If they - if they told you. Then you know it was my dad."</p><p>"Sweetie," she says. "Daniel told me, but they absolutely should not have told you. You shouldn't know anything about this."</p><p>Robby's mom used to get drunk when she got cheated on. Robby used to kind of like it - not because he wanted her to be hurt, obviously, the opposite of that - but because she would get stay home drunk and they would watch Dirty Dancing together. Robby would cut class and they'd hang out on the couch and get pizza and wine.</p><p>Amanda LaRusso is probably not a pizza and wine kind of drunk mom.</p><p>She looks at him again, shakes her head. Her hair still looks perfect, not messy at all. "Come in," she says. "Are you hungry? There's salad out. Anthony - you know Anthony."</p><p>"I'm okay, Mrs LaRusso." He smiles at her, though, lets her lead him in. "I, uh-"</p><p>"Oh," she says. You wouldn't know she was out of it if you hadn't met her before, but he has and so it kicks, hard, against his chest. "Sam, of course. She's in her room, go on up."</p><p>He nods. "Mrs LaRusso, I-"</p><p>She hugs him again. She's a little shorter than he is, but only barely. "None of this has anything to do with you," she says. "And I don't want you to think for a second that it does."</p><p><em> Heard that one before, </em> he thinks, but he hugs her back. </p><p>Letting go of her sucks, but these things always do. He climbs the stairs two at a time until he’s outside Sam’s room. He knocks twice and then pushes his head around the door. "Sam?" </p><p>She's sitting on her bed with airpods in. She takes one out, shakes her head, like she's waking up from a deep sleep. "Robby." </p><p>"I just wanted to see you," Robby says. </p><p>"Right. You heard." She looks like the protagonist of a teen movie, cross-legged on her big bed in her huge bedroom. It's a whole other world up here, but he loves her.</p><p>"I tried calling you," he says. Normally he would just go in but she hasn't invited him to so, like a vampire, he's stuck on the other side of the threshold.</p><p>"Sorry," she says. She takes the other airpod out. "You can come in if you want."</p><p>He does. He isn't sure where to sit so he takes the desk chair. "I-"</p><p>"I wasn't home when he moved out," Sam says. "I was at a hotel. With Demetri." She looks down at the end of her bed, at the hallway. "I'm sorry. I should have answered when you called."</p><p>“It’s fine.” Robby should say, maybe, <em> are you okay? </em>But he doesn’t. He just crosses his arms along the back of the chair, settles his chin on top of them. </p><p>Sam says, "Do you know anything? Did they talk to you?"</p><p>Robby shakes his head. "Not your dad," he says. "Your mom seems -" He doesn't know what else he would say. Sam's mom seems like she's doing pretty well, for someone whose husband moved into his karate dojo.</p><p>"She's pretending she's fine," Sam says. "But she wouldn't - they've been married for twenty years. Never had a problem." Her mouth presses into a thin line. "I know it's not - but god. Before Cobra Kai it really wasn't like this."</p><p>"Right," Robby says. He gets it. He's mad at his dad all the time. "What did they tell you?"</p><p>"What do you know?" Sam asks. She gets off the bed, coming over to squint at his face. Close up he can see that her eyes are red-rimmed, tired. "Robby, please."</p><p>He shakes his head. "Sam."</p><p>She sits back down with a heavy thump. "She said they're working it out. That I shouldn't freak out, that everything's changing but it doesn't mean they don't love me or each other. But Anthony got a new iPhone."</p><p>"Didn't he just get one?"</p><p>"Yeah," she says. She rests her chin on her hand. "I'm sorry, I- I know I'm being shitty."</p><p>He wishes it was the kind of situation where he could just lean in and kiss her. It sucks but it's how you fix things. Maybe Mr LaRusso should just have fucking done it.</p><p>It hurts Robby's brain to think about it. "Why would your dad leave?"</p><p>She breathes out, a hurt little huff. "I don't know," she says. "Fuck. It was getting weird but that's not, people get weird sometimes. He was really into karate and my mom was mad about it but it wasn't - it's not like they never fight. Never like this, though." She hiccups. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't - your mom's in rehab. People's parents split up all the time."</p><p>"You're not <em> people</em>," Robby says. "Sam."</p><p>She sighs, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I was having a really good night," she says. "Like, really good. And then I came back in the morning and Anthony was like, hell yeah, double Christmas, and - shit. It just happened all at once. I thought my dad was just going to have to go to work more and maybe do less Miyagi-do, not -"</p><p>"Move there," Robby says.</p><p>"Yeah," Sam says. "Not move there." She moves over, making room for him on the bed. "I missed you."</p><p>"Missed you too," Robby says. He gets up to sit down next to her, feet on the floor, so he can flop all the way down. Her ceiling lamp must get dusted all the time, there's nothing in there. "I'm sorry."</p><p>"It sucks," Sam says. She lies back, too, and then they're looking at each other, like they used to do before they'd kiss. This feels better, though. This feels like something they made together, not something they were both pretending to be. "I'm glad you're here."</p><p>He reaches out for her hand, on the blanket in between them. Her fingers tangle in his, and hold. "So, Demetri, huh?"</p><p>She flushes, turns her face away. "It was nice," she says. "I didn't think it would be that nice. But it was."</p><p>"<em>Really,</em>" Robby says. "Because, you know, I've seen him try to dance-"</p><p>"It was good," she says, firmly. And then she grins at him, a weak-coffee attempt but it makes it at least a little to her eyes. "Anyway, aren't you suffering in silence?"</p><p>"Not in <em> silence</em>," Robby says. And then, because he can't tell her anything else, "Tory stayed over last night."</p><p>"Oh, wow," Sam says. "And that was okay? It wasn't weird?" She blinks her big eyes at him, fringed by those dark lashes.</p><p>They've talked a little. Not that much, but enough; she doesn't like Tory but she'll keep Robby's secrets for Robby's sake. These secrets are easier than the bigger ones. Robby's good at triage like that, and it's not like he doesn't want to talk to her. <em> I'm not ready to have sex with my boyfriend or my girlfriend yet </em> is a lot less complicated than <em> I'm not sure I know how to be in love with someone without fucking them up. </em> And both of those things are less complicated than <em> I caught our dads having sex</em>.</p><p>"It was a little weird," Robby says, feeling it out. He looks back up at the ceiling. "I think we were both worried about that, you know? That it would be weird because of us and that would make it weird forever for Miguel."</p><p>Sam doesn't laugh. She just keeps looking at him, with that steady careful gaze. It feels like kata; it feels like he knows when she's going to breathe. He forgot about that.</p><p>"I don't think he's going to love it when he finds out," Robby says. He closes his eyes. "I think we should have told him before."</p><p>She hums. "Yeah?"</p><p>"I don't know," Robby says. "It's hard."</p><p>"It's a lot of people to keep track of," Sam says. She smiles at him. "You have a big heart, though. I think it's big enough."</p><p>"I love you," he says. "You know that, right?" </p><p>"I love you, too," she says. "I miss when everything wasn't so complicated."</p><p>"Yeah," he says. "Me too." But honestly: it's better than it was. Even with all this shit. </p><p>"My dad fights for everything," Sam says, quietly. "Even the things that don't matter at all. So if he's there-" </p><p>Robby swallows. "Yeah." <em> It means he isn't coming back.  </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tory drove him to Encino.</p><p>“Do you think I should talk to her?” Tory asked. She was staring at the road, not at him. </p><p>“I don’t know,” Robby said, being honest. “I don’t think talking to Luke ever helped me.”</p><p>"I don't think it's like that," Tory said. "Not that that means anything." <em> Not that it means I made better choices than you did</em>, even though probably she did.</p><p>Robby leaned his head against the window. "Yeah," he said. "I don't know."</p><p>"I just mean-" She shook her head. "There were guys who liked it when it hurt. She was never like that."</p><p>Robby blinked. His mouth tasted like blood. He must have bitten his lip.</p><p>"Hey," she said. "Not in a like - not in a bad way. But what did he want?" She didn't need to say the name. It hung between them, malevolently. "I thought you were done with him."</p><p>It felt bad to think about it, like pulling a hangnail, pressing into a bruise. Because he'd known it was a bad idea from the start, and still kept going. That was why. "Yeah," Robby said. "It wasn't a good idea. I guess I just didn't know how hard it would be to not hear from him, you know? He was my best friend for two years. We basically lived together. He taught me how to drive and I didn't kill him."</p><p>Saying it made his chest hurt, a physical ache of a memory he hadn't realized he was clutching so tightly. It sucked to think about Luke, but it also sucked to not think about him. Maybe that was how Tory felt, too; maybe he was just hoping, so he wouldn't be the only one.</p><p>She tapped her fingers on the wheel. "Yeah."</p><p>"I don't know what he wants," Robby said. "I don't think he knows, either. He's never been good at knowing. So he just takes whatever, everything." And then, because she was there next to him, and he could still feel her hands on him, "It doesn't matter. I know what I want."</p><p>"Aw, Keene," she said. And then she smiled. "Me too."</p><p>He looked out at the roadside: strip mall after strip mall, fading into beautiful leafy residential as they got further up. "I didn't mean to not tell you. Both of you. Things were just weird, and it was easier to talk to him than anyone else."</p><p>"That's kinda fucked up," she said. "No offense."</p><p>"Yeah," he said. "Are you gonna talk to her?"</p><p>She bit her lip. "I think I should," she says. "I just - there were good things about it, you know? Being friends with her. I feel like I'm either going to forget all of them or remember all of them and forget all the shit. And that would suck."</p><p>"No kidding," Robby said.</p><p>She punched his shoulder, lightly. "Okay," she said. "Real helpful, genius."</p><p>He shrugged, leaning over to kiss her cheek. "What she did to you, that was fucked up. Like, unreal fucked up."</p><p>She didn't look at him. "Yeah," she said. "But I was there, you know? I trusted her. So."</p><p>Robby always texted Luke back, always came over, always, even now, made the call. He gets it.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"My dad has a date tonight," Robby says.</p><p>Sam snorts. "Sorry, what?"</p><p>They're in the pool house, and they are high. It was Sam's idea, courtesy of some edibles Moon wrapped in gift paper for her. It feels weird to be doing this with Sam but it's for the best, actually, because she's not a kid and he doesn't need to protect her, and also she deserves to be stoned right now.</p><p>It took him right out, though. He's out of practice. He remembers when he was younger, he used to get like this all the time. It was scary but Luke was always there. But it was always like maybe he wouldn't be. Maybe he'll leave.</p><p>He didn't, though.</p><p>Sam drags her fingers along the nape of his neck. "I like your hair," she says. "It looks good like this."</p><p>"Luke hated it," Robby says. It comes out too fast. He doesn't mean to say it so fast. He didn't want to talk about that; there are so many other things he should be talking about.</p><p>She says, "Do you miss him?"</p><p>He laughs. <em> All the time. Every moment. </em> But that's not true, because Robby has a whole different world now and he loves it. "Sometimes," he says. "He wasn't - nice to me."</p><p>Sam breathes out. She told him about Kyler, that guy Miguel beat up in the lunchroom for everyone to see. Not the same, but same family, maybe. Like Robby and his dad. "He was really nice to me, when I was a kid."</p><p>It doesn't sting, because he knows Luke. He knows what he's like. "He's funny. He's good with people."</p><p>"Is that where you learned?" she asks, and then she claps her hand over her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that."</p><p>He shakes his head. "My mom's charming," he says. "I don't think you would know. Because you haven't met her like that. But my dad's stepdad, he's an asshole, but my mom used to get all kinds of shit out of him. She said it was good to know how to be friendly."</p><p>"Right," Sam says. "Like the way my parents sell cars." She grins. "Not like your dad."</p><p>Robby laughs. "Not like my dad." He closes his eyes. "I'm glad he's going out. I think it's good for him."</p><p>"You're doing better," Sam says. "You used to hate talking about him."</p><p>"He still sucks," Robby says. "But he's been trying. I don't trust him to not fuck everything up but I don't think I've ever trusted him to <em> try, </em>you know? It's stupid."</p><p>"It's not," Sam says. LaRusso sincere, with those big eyes. "I'm glad, Robby. You deserve the best version of your dad. Even if he sucks."</p><p>"I can't believe an actual human being is going on dates with him," Robby says. "Fuck. That's crazy."</p><p>"And my dad's living in the dojo," Sam says, giggling, like she can't help it. "Fuck."</p><p>"I like Demetri," Robby says. "I like that he likes everything about you."</p><p>"I'm very likeable," Sam says. "Don't pretend you don't know."</p><p>He does. When he looks at the ceiling here it reminds him of the first days he lived here, when the air mattress had to be refilled twice in the night time and he didn't know what was going to happen, where he was going to be. He kind of misses it. That was when everything was going to be brand new. "Yeah," Robby says. "I'm glad you're my friend. It would suck to break up and never talk to each other again."</p><p>She blinks dark lashes once, then again. "I didn't think about it like that. But yeah. It would." </p><p>He thinks about waking up with Tory, the way they fit together and the sunlight fell on her hair, and the way he thought how good it would be to have Miguel there, too. All three of them, together. How maybe he would feel like there wasn't something empty at the middle of him, how maybe he would finally make sense.</p><p>That shit's not good for you. It makes you confused and messy and you forget how to be a person. </p><p>Maybe it's just Robby who forgets. Everyone else seems fine. </p><p>"I hope I don't break up with Demetri," Sam says. "I would hate to never talk to him again."</p><p>"Please," Robby says. "What on earth could Demetri do to make you break up with him? You already like comic book movies."</p><p>"Not comic books, though," she says, and then she laughs. "Sounds about right." She bites her lip. "Is she nice?"</p><p>Robby blinks. "Who? Tory? Not really, but it's kind of nice."</p><p>Sam rolls her eyes. "Your dad's date, jerk. Have you met her? Does she have a real job?"</p><p>Robby is suddenly very aware of the ends of his fingertips. He swallows, mouth dry, eyelids heavy. "Yeah. She's nice. Vegetarian."</p><p>"Holy shit," Sam says. "Your dad must really like her." </p><p>Robby thinks about it for a long moment, until the moment feels like it's stretched too far and might snap. "Yeah," he says. "I guess so."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad picks him up on his way home from the dojo. God, that's weird to think about. Robby's dad at the dojo, with Mr LaRusso, just hanging out. Just being guys.</p><p>He doesn't come in. He waits at the end of the driveway, as far from the house as physically possible.</p><p>That's fair, in Robby's opinion.</p><p>Robby got cheated on a bunch, when he had just the one boyfriend. It wasn't like, a big deal; none of it was a big deal. Nothing was a big deal for Luke, because life was a fucking party and he was at all of them. Luke always said, <em> well, I love you best, baby, </em> and then threw last night's clothes into a pile in the corner and pulled Robby into the shower with him.</p><p>Robby never talked to any of those guys. Sometimes they came out of Robby's boyfriend's bedroom, if Robby had been out, or at school, but more often Robby just had to wait around after the end of the party for Luke to come out and take him home. That sucked, too. </p><p>But the hangover cleared up. Robby didn't break up with Luke. One time Robby was supposed to sell molly to one of those guys and Robby just didn't show. But it's not like he got in a fight with him or anything.</p><p>Robby got ghosted and then was stoned for a week straight on his mom's couch. So clearly he knows a lot about relationships. </p><p>Robby's dad looks him up and down and says, "I better not get a call from Mrs LaRusso."</p><p>Robby rolls his eyes, slinging himself into the passenger seat. "Yeah, yeah," he says. "Like you and mom weren't baked as fuck while you changed my diapers." </p><p>"Oh, I'm a role model now?" But Robby's dad isn't scowling, just stretching his arm out along the window. "They doing all right?" </p><p>"What the hell," Robby says, because it's automatic and his dad deserves it. "What do you think?" </p><p>Robby's dad sighs. "LaRusso's not doing great either." He pulls back onto the road. "Not that it's my business, except for the parts that are literally my business."</p><p>"Nice," Robby says. The sun's still out; it's still a nice day. He's riding the warmth of curling up next to Sam, because he can. She's still his friend and he's still her friend and it's not going anywhere. For now. "Where are you going with Ben tonight?" </p><p>"Some bar," Robby's dad says. He pushes his sunglasses up his nose. "He said it won't be too busy, because it's a Sunday." </p><p>"That's smart," Robby says. "He's nice, huh?"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "Even if he only eats rabbit food. And pickles. The pickles are fine, though." He looks over at Robby. The sunglasses hide his eyes but his mouth is thoughtful, not tense. "You wanna meet him? You think that's something you'd be into?" </p><p>"Isn't it kind of early?" Robby asks. And then, quickly - "That's not a no." </p><p>Robby's dad fiddles with the tape deck. There goes the Skynrd, but quietly. "I don't know," he says. "You'd know better than I would. What- you know, with your mom? How'd that work?" </p><p>Robby stretches his legs out in front of him. "Honestly, not very well," he says. "I bet Miguel and his mom have a great system, though. Number of dates, place to go for dinner, the whole routine."</p><p>Robby's dad laughs. "Yeah, probably." He's quiet for a moment, and then, thoughtfully, "I don't want to fuck this up." </p><p>"How many times have you seen this guy? Like four? And he still hasn't run away screaming? I'd say you're doing great."</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad protests. "I have game."</p><p>"Never say that," Robby says. "Never again, I swear to god."</p><p>Robby's dad taps his fingers along the wheel. "I didn't mean with him," he says. "I just want to get this right. You and me." </p><p>Robby says, "We can ask Miguel. He'll know when we should have dinner. And probably where." </p><p>More silence from Robby's dad. The funny thing about Robby's dad is you can practically see the wheels turning in his head: ideas trying to connect, words trying to make themselves be thought. Robby's dad doesn't believe in concussions but he didn't believe in being gay until about four months ago and now he has a boyfriend. Well, maybe not a boyfriend. Maybe a boy who's a friend. </p><p>Finally, Robby's dad says, "You think he wouldn't think it was weird if I didn't ask him to come?"</p><p>"Oh," Robby says, startled. "I just figured."</p><p>"We can, obviously," Robby's dad says. "Maybe it'd be easier for you if there were two of you." </p><p>Robby bites the inside of his cheek. It would be fucking nice if his dad could just say things, but that would be too easy, probably. "No," he says. "It's fine. Maybe he can come in for a drink before you go out? Who's driving?"</p><p>Robby's dad coughs. "Robby!"</p><p>"Not like that," Robby says. "Jesus, I meant to the bar." But fuck, he is <em> not </em> having that conversation with his fucking dad and neither is Miguel; Robby's dad's students have carried him kicking and screaming into the present day but Robby is not going to have his boyfriend explain to his dad that you don't have to feel like less of a man for taking it up the ass. If you do. Which Robby is going to not think about, because, god, ew. Robby's dad's sex life has got to begin and end at Robby's existence, that's the fucking line and Robby is drawing it. If his dad wants to get a complex he can add it to the list of things he should probably bring to therapy. </p><p>Robby's dad is talking. "He's driving. The car is-"</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "It's a little phallic." </p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You know, all the snakes. Like, the shape of them." </p><p>"Did you learn this on the internet? I'm turning it off." </p><p>Robby smirks. "You'd have to figure out where it plugs in, first." </p><p>Robby's dad seethes. "Fine," he says. "Remember this the next time you need a shelf."</p><p>"I only really need the one," Robby says. "The trees are doing great, though. Thanks for putting it up."</p><p>"Anytime," Robby's dad says. "Next time I'll teach you how to do it right. None of that LaRusso crap."</p><p>Robby doesn't laugh but he lets himself smile. "Yeah, sure." </p><p>They don't talk for a while. Robby's dad is a better driver when he's sober - fast, but not reckless. Robby wonders who taught him to drive. Maybe it was Sid. Maybe it was Kreese. Maybe it was Driver's Ed. Maybe in the 80s you just learned by driving and you hoped you wouldn't kill anybody. That's on brand for Robby's dad.</p><p>Luke was a good teacher. He wasn't always patient with Robby - mostly he wasn't, honestly - but he was good when he taught Robby to drive, and Robby is a good driver now. His mom was thrilled; free cab home, not that Robby was around all that much, back then.</p><p>"He's picking you up?" Robby asks. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says. "He can't stay out too late, he has work in the morning."</p><p>"Right," Robby says. "What age does he teach?" It's fucking weird to talk about this with his dad, but it's not bad. Like a wiggly tooth, right before you yank. When you're just poking the edges of the crown with the tip of your tongue. "Miguel talked to me about some of it, but it was a while ago."</p><p>Robby's dad sits straighter, like he's being pulled from the head. His hands tighten on the wheel. "High school," he says. "Teenagers. He doesn't flip 'em, though. Said that's a health and safety hazard." </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says, "that makes sense." He tips his head against the windowpane. "He really likes you, huh?"</p><p>"Like I said, kid," Robby's dad says, "I'm charming." A pause. "It's easier with him. I thought it was just easy with LaRusso, because it's LaRusso. But all of it feels better. Every part."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. What would Diaz say? "That's really good, Dad."</p><p>"Thanks," Robby's dad says. "I'm doing my best." He grins at Robby, this one sweet, easy. "Hey, you don't think I have to have one of those drinks with umbrellas, right? Because I'm not going to do that."</p><p>"I think they'll probably sell you a Coors," Robby says. He grins back. "Maybe you should ask him if he wants to come in first. Just for one."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's kind of nice to be in the apartment, just Robby and his dad. It's not that he doesn't <em> like </em> Miguel and Tory, doesn't love being in their pockets, wrapped up and cared for and caring for. It's just, Robby and his dad are getting to know each other after a long fucking time and when Robby doesn't choke on how much he fucking hates what his dad did to him it's starting to feel more like they might like each other. Not that much, just a little bit. </p><p>Robby is watering his bonsai and waiting for Tory to text him back. He doesn't know if she went to talk to Beth or if she just went home and he wants her to tell him. And then he wants her to tell Miguel so that they can all talk about it together, or not talk about it, or whatever. </p><p>"Robby!" Robby's dad yells. "Do I need to wear a tie?" </p><p>"You have a tie?" Robby yells back.</p><p>"No," Robby's dad yells, finally.</p><p>Like Robby said: kind of nice. </p><p>So Robby finishes up watering and sits on the couch, texting Miguel about the math homework and Sam about the bio lab tomorrow. Robby's dad sits in the armchair, trying to not look nervous and failing. </p><p>"I cannot believe you scored with my mom," Robby says. "She's so much better at this than you." </p><p>"Yeah, well," Robby's dad says, like he's about to throw off something shitty about Robby's mom, but then he thinks better of it. "I was prettier back then. Great head of hair." A beat. "Also, wasted the whole time."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says, grinning. "I figured." It's weird that it doesn't sting. Maybe because Robby's dad is different now, more comfortable. Like saying the words out loud was enough. To put it like Robby's dad would, like maybe there was a new person, waiting under that old skin, and it needed to be shed. </p><p>Robby's dad is wearing the same thing he wears every time he goes on a date: jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. Robby thinks he'll do fine at the bar, if he doesn't freak out. </p><p>"It's nice of him," Robby says, thoughtfully, "to like. Do this with you. They're big firsts, we should make you a scrapbook."</p><p>"You spend too much time with LaRusso," Robby's dad says firmly. "At least I know Diaz would never suggest something so stupid." </p><p>Robby grins. "Don't ask, don't tell," he says. There you go. Period-appropriate reference.</p><p>Robby's dad groans. </p><p>There's a knock on the door, just one. Both of them freeze and then Robby grins at his dad and his dad grins back. "Be cool," he tells Robby. That's what he'd say to Miguel, Robby thinks, and normally it would make him feel weird but this time it doesn't. </p><p>"Speak for yourself," Robby says. </p><p>Ben's handsome. Now that Robby's not surprised to see him it's easier to just look at him like a person. Miguel said, breathlessly, <em> he's Korean and his family live in Irvine and he hates the Patriots. </em> Miguel's good that way; it's like getting Cliff's Notes, but for Robby's dad.</p><p>"Hi," Robby says. "I'm Robby." </p><p>Ben smiles at him. He's got a broad, pleasant face; the kind of face you trust. He's wearing a dark red button-down shirt that makes his eyes pop. "I'm Ben," he says. "It's nice to meet you again." He holds out his hand and Robby shakes it.</p><p>Okay. Here's the thing Robby was worried about: Robby was thinking, there is a specific type of guy who exists in the world, and he is the kind of guy that Robby's family does not exactly have good experiences with. Robby trusts Miguel to know these things, because Miguel is smart and honest and good, and somehow invulnerable to the John Kreeses of the world, but there's always the possibility that Miguel could have slipped up, or Robby's dad could just get around it. </p><p>He wasn't sure what he'd do even if that was happening. Maybe what he did before. It still scares him that that worked. That he said, <em> please don't do this anymore </em> and his dad said, <em> okay, it's over. </em></p><p>There is no bad guy in Robby's relationship now. Maybe that's why he texted Luke back. Maybe he's scared without Luke Robby will expand, take up all that space that he leaves. Become the person Luke taught him to be.</p><p>Not that Luke taught him on purpose. He just showed Robby, this is what the world looks like. People who love each other fuck each other up.</p><p>Robby doesn’t think it would be fair for his dad to get fucked up. Not now that he’s just started to figure everything out. </p><p>Ben is nice. Robby's dad holds the door open for him when they leave and blushes fiercely when Robby catches him checking out Ben's ass.</p><p>Robby sprawls back into the couch. Sure, everything's new and kind of fucked up, but hey. Could be worse. Has been worse.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk is not at Miyagi-do on Monday. That's weird. Robby doesn't think he's sick, because they had physics together and did not speak, as usual. He doesn't really have anyone to ask about it, because Robby's dad is running his class and Miguel and Tory are in the class, but it's fucking weird. </p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "You okay, Robby?"</p><p>Robby thought it would be weird, showing up, knowing what he knows, but Mr LaRusso has a great poker face, as it turns out, and it was just like normal. You can't even tell someone's living in Miyagi-do - they don't really go inside the house, so you wouldn't see, but it's not like there's stuff spilling out everywhere. And Mr LaRusso doesn't look as shitty as you'd expect, he just looks like Mr LaRusso, cleaned up and with the sleeves of his hoodie pushed up to his elbows, reminding everyone to breathe in and breathe out.</p><p>Sam was out of it but not like, super out of it. They spent most of class on the wheel, which was her idea but her dad was grateful for it, Robby's pretty sure. It's good for both Robby and Sam to remember the kata, when they can. They worked so hard for it, it's like flying when you get it right. One day maybe Robby will invite his dad to come early and he can see it. Maybe. Robby still isn't sure if his dad would get it. Nobody gets punched, but the movements are recognisably karate, so even odds either way.</p><p>"I'm okay," Robby says. He's sitting on the steps out front, watching the Cobra Kai kids do their sparring. Tory's on the ground, eating a mouthful of dirt, but she looks happy. Robby shades his eyes so he can see Mr LaRusso better. "What about you?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso sits down next to him. It's sunny, and his eyes look almost too bright. "Sam told you?"</p><p>"My dad," Robby says. </p><p>"I'm sorry," Mr LaRusso says. "I should have told you." He looks at Robby, level and calm. He helped Robby with his handstand earlier and his hands didn't shake, his voice didn't tremble. "We haven't really been telling people." </p><p>"Right," Robby says. "It's fine, I understand. That's personal, anyway."</p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "No. You're someone I should have told." </p><p>Robby's dad is down there, with the Cobras. He's not looking at them, busy with the sun on his hair scowling at Miguel. </p><p>Robby wants to wrap his arms around his knees but he doesn't. He just rakes his fingers through his hair and looks down at his shoes. "Are you doing okay?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs, lightly. "Not really," he says. "But it's better when I get to be here, with all of you. Especially you and Sam." He looks sincere. </p><p>Robby feels - tangled up, stuck. "I'm sorry," he says. "That it got fucked up." And then, cautiously, looking back at his shoes, "do you think you're going to move back home soon?" </p><p>Mr LaRusso breathes out. "I don't know," he says. "I'm sorry, Robby. I wish I could say something clearer. I know - you matter to us, I hope we've made that clear, both Amanda and I." </p><p>"She said," Robby says. He feels stupid. "It's okay, I'm not one of your kids. You don't have to give me the Christmas conversation."</p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "Don't do that, okay? We're here for you. We want to be." </p><p>Robby swallows. "Thanks," he says. He doesn't know what else to say. It's not like a normal breakup, like what he'd say to Sam. And it's not like his mom, either. It is, in fact, everything Robby was worried about at the beginning, and honestly it fucking sucks. It sucks a lot. And he doesn't even have Miyagi-do, either, because his fucking dad is here ruining the lawn. </p><p>"How's Sam doing?" Mr LaRusso asks. "I know I talk to her, but it's not the same." </p><p>Robby shrugs. "I think she's okay," he says. "I mean, as much as you can be. It's just that it came out of nowhere, you know?" <em> For all of us. </em></p><p>"Yeah," Mr LaRusso says. "I know." He sighs. "I don't want to get too much in the details, Robby, I don't think that's useful for you to know. But she's right to be confused. I think all of us are. I don't think even I saw it coming, to be honest."</p><p>Robby's palm hurts. Oh: he's making a fist, too tight. His nails are digging into his palm. "It's not because of my dad, is it?" </p><p>"Oh," Mr LaRusso says. </p><p>Robby's mouth is dry. He doesn't want to be like this: he wants to be chill and funny and okay with this, because it isn't his business, because it shouldn't feel like this. It's not his family. As much as they say things Robby was only there for a little while, and Robby is not like them, because Robby is like his dad. Robby is supposed to be where the fucked up things land, not Mr LaRusso. "Because he sucks," Robby says, quietly. "Like, he's trying to not suck, but you can't - he used to try all the time, when I was a kid, you know? There was one month when I was like, five, where he and my mom lived together again and he had a job, and then my mom couldn't pick me up after school because my dad got in a bar fight and she had to bail him out." </p><p>Mr LaRusso doesn't say anything for a while. It's so long that Robby looks up, despite himself, to look at Mr LaRusso's tired face. He's looking at Robby, carefully, thoughtfully, like he's trying to figure out what to say. Mr LaRusso usually knows what to say. He almost always gets it right. </p><p>Robby picks at his thumbnail. "I shouldn't have said it like that."</p><p>"No," Mr LaRusso says. "Thank you for telling me, Robby. I'm sorry that this keeps happening to you. I'm sorry people keep letting you down." He sighs. "I'm sorry one of those people is me."</p><p>"It's not," Robby says. "It's just that's what my dad is like. He doesn't mean to do it, but he fucks everything up." He bites his lip. "Maybe I do, too. Because you wouldn't have met him if I wasn't so fucked up, you know?" </p><p>"Oh, Robby," Mr LaRusso says, and the way he says it is like, fuck. Like Robby's a little kid who's skinned his knee or something. Robby hates when Mr LaRusso sounds like that. He's sure Mr LaRusso would have hated it, too, when he was a kid and people talked about his dead dad or whatever in front of him. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said it like that."</p><p>Robby doesn't say anything. He wonders where Hawk is. Maybe he's crashed his car or something trying to get into a road race. That would be a Hawk thing to do.</p><p>"Let me put it like this," Mr LaRusso says. "I don't know if this would have happened without your dad. That's true - I've never felt the way I feel about him about anyone else, and that includes Amanda, and that's why all of this is happening the way it is. At the risk of oversharing, and you can tell me to stop anytime, I love my wife and I am in love with my wife. But the way I feel about your dad is something I didn't know I was capable of, and I had to tell Amanda, because I owe her that."</p><p>Robby probably should tell him to stop. He should say, <em> it's okay, it's fine, it's none of my business</em>. But his chest feels all tight inside and his tongue feels too big for his mouth. </p><p>"Of course nobody wants to hear that their partner feels like lightning struck about someone else. We thought we could work it out at home, but we couldn't. Both of us need space to figure out if it's a deal breaker." </p><p>"Both of you?" </p><p>"She doesn't know if she can forgive me," Mr LaRusso says. "I think that's fair. I don't know if our marriage is what I want anymore. That's harder, because it isn't fair. It's not something she did, or I did. It's just something that happened." </p><p>"Oh," Robby says.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Mr LaRusso says, "that really <em> was </em> too much information. Listen, I think your car's about ready, what do you say we show up early and see if the guys can speed it up for you?" </p><p>"My dad has a boyfriend," Robby blurts out. It comes out very quickly and kind of jumbled up. "I think. Maybe." </p><p>Mr LaRusso flinches, just for a second. Then that easy LaRusso smile comes back, like plaster over a cracked wall. "That's good," he says. "For your dad. It's good if that's something he wants."</p><p>Robby says, "Okay." </p><p>Mr LaRusso gets to his feet and offers Robby a hand up. "C'mon," he says. "Let's get you some wheels."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Miguel is sitting out front when Robby parks his car. His eyes light up when he sees Robby. "Oh shit," he says. "You got her back!" </p><p>Robby grins. It is nice to have his car again, even if he was the one who had to crawl around and vacuum all the dirt and glass out of the seats. "Yeah," he says. "You can tell Hawk he's lucky I don't invoice him."</p><p>As soon as he says it he knows it's the wrong thing to say. Miguel's face freezes up, shutters dropping behind his eyes. "I don't think I'm going to be telling Hawk anything," he says. "Not for a while."</p><p>Okay, there it is. </p><p>Robby sits down beside Miguel, bumping their shoulders together. Under different circumstances he'd reach out, maybe kiss him, but Miguel is tight, wound up, so he doesn't. "I saw he wasn't at the dojo."</p><p>"He went back to Cobra Kai," Miguel says, not looking at Robby. "I told him what happened with Kreese and he still went back."</p><p>"Shit." Robby really does not like that fucking guy. Demetri should get to beat him up. Demetri's been working on that punch, one day he'll get the power through his hips. </p><p>Miguel shrugs. "I guess I should have known."</p><p>This is easy, a no brainer. Just like with Sam. "No," Robby says. "It's not stupid to think people aren't going to let you down."</p><p>A little laugh, like Miguel's choking on it. "Really, Robby? You're saying that to me?" </p><p>It does sting, but only a little. He sets it aside. "You say it to me," he says. "And you're right, when you say it. I mean, look at us. If you'd let me pick a fight when I first moved in, maybe we would never have hung out. Maybe I'd be at Stanford now." </p><p>That's the wrong thing to say, too. Fuck.</p><p>Miguel looks away. "Robby," he says. "That's what you want to bring up? Really?"</p><p>It isn't. "Miguel-" </p><p>"It's fucked up that you're still talking to your ex," Miguel says, flatly. "It is fucked up that you wouldn't tell me about it. Okay? I've been waiting and waiting and you just -" He breathes out, hard. Looks away. "I don't want to talk about this. I'm pissed off. I'm not going to say the right thing." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. "I'm sorry about Hawk. That's it. That's all I meant." </p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. He closes his eyes. "He didn't talk himself out of it. Did you know that? They got him, the cops, and it was - I mean, he wasn't going to get out of it. I think he might have broken that guy's leg." </p><p>Robby says, "Excuse me if I don't feel bad about that." </p><p>"Yeah, okay," Miguel says. "Except that he called <em> Kreese</em>." </p><p>"Oh," Robby says. </p><p>"He's a vet or something, whatever. Those guys take that shit seriously. That's what Hawk says. I don't know if I believe anything he says, anymore." Miguel's voice is flat. He isn't looking at Robby, just staring out into the street. "So he's okay. But he's not coming back." </p><p>"Fuck," Robby says. He feels like he wants to be very, very, small. Like he doesn't want Miguel to look at him. Like he's scared about what Miguel will see, if he looks. </p><p>"You were right," Miguel says. "We shouldn't have taken him with us." He doesn't sound like Robby's right, though. He sounds like - </p><p>When Robby and Luke used to fight, it was always Robby's fault. Robby didn't <em> know </em> what he was doing when he did it, but he still had fucked things up. Luke would always explain how and it would make sense, and Robby would feel stupid and small. </p><p>Robby swallows. "That guy needed to be stopped." </p><p>There must be something in Robby's voice because Miguel freezes, turns to look at him. "Shit," he says. His eyes are wide, worried. "I didn't - yeah, of course he did. It was the right thing to do, even if I'm fucking pissed off about how you did it." </p><p>Robby does wrap his arms around his knees, rests his chin on top of them. "Okay," he says. "I'm sorry." </p><p>Miguel sighs and reaches out for him, carefully. His thumb brushes over Robby's cheekbone and Robby breathes in, lets him do it. "Hey," he says. "It's okay." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says, again. "I should have told you I was talking to him. You and Tory." </p><p>"You have a life," Miguel says. He takes his hand back, drops it onto his thigh. "I'm not - I'm your boyfriend, not your dad. You don't owe me anything." </p><p>"You should have stopped Hawk from breaking that guy's leg," Robby says. He doesn't mean to say it like that - sharp-edged, angry - but it happens anyway. "I would have, if I'd been there."</p><p>So it's not okay, actually. Actually, they are having a fight. </p><p>Robby is not in the mood to have a fight. He was in the mood to go home and do his homework and maybe sit through Iron Eagle II. He wanted to take a long shower and maybe do some kata in his bedroom. </p><p>Robby used to know two ways to fight. You give in or you go all out. Mr LaRusso taught him there's a middle path, where you give what you get, where the two of you meet in the middle. That's hard to remember all the time. </p><p>Miguel's body is stiff. Robby wonders if his heart is beating fast, if like Robby he can hear his blood in his ears.</p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. He turns to look at Robby, careful, precise. "You don't lose your shit in a fight. That's how it is, right? That's why you're better than us."</p><p>"I didn't say that," Robby snaps. He hates snapping at Miguel. It feels wrong, makes him nauseous. "You know I wouldn't say that."</p><p>"Doesn't mean you don't think it," Miguel says. "Fuck, Robby, what was I supposed to do? Give a shit about that guy?" </p><p>"Give a shit about <em> Tory</em>," Robby says. His face flushes, hot and prickly. "That's what you were supposed to do."</p><p>"Fuck you," Miguel spits. "You weren't there, you wouldn't know."</p><p>"Because you <em> asked me not to</em>," Robby says, because it is unspeakably unfair, because he was supposed to be there and he wasn't. </p><p>"Robby," Miguel says. "What's going on? What's this about?"</p><p>"Tory and I had sex," Robby says. He makes himself look at Miguel while he says it. "Without you."</p><p>Miguel reels. It flashes all over his face like a hit, like a real one, a serious one. Like a kick to the chest that gets you on your back on the mat, followed with a quick punch to the throat. He takes a deep breath, like it hurts to do it. "Okay," he says. His eyes don't meet Robby's. "Good job, Robby, you hurt my feelings too. Are we even now? Is that what you wanted?"</p><p>"No," Robby says. He means that; it just came out. He feels deflated, like a punctured balloon. "It wasn't like that, it wasn't like anything. We didn't like, plan to do it."</p><p>"I can't talk about this," Miguel says. He stares into the road, flat and empty. "Not right now. I'll say something I don't want to say."</p><p>"Now who's keeping his cool?" Robby can hear himself doing it, like he does with his dad, like he did with Hawk - needling, vicious. Trying to get <em> something</em>, anything. He did it to Luke once and got left on the side of the road. That sucked. But he can walk home from here; he wouldn't need to hitchhike. </p><p>He isn't supposed to be like this with Miguel. </p><p>Miguel buries his face in his hands. "It's so fucking <em> hard </em> with you, Robby. Fucking every single thing. Just when I think things are finally going to be okay-"</p><p>Robby's chest hurts. His throat burns. "I-" he starts, doesn't know what else to say, can't figure it out. He reaches out for Miguel's shoulder, the lightest he can manage. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to."</p><p>Miguel lets Robby touch him, doesn't pull away but doesn't lean into it either. "That guy fucking <em> sucks</em>, Robby." </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He curls his fingertips against the cotton of Miguel's shirt. "But I wouldn't be me without him, so I guess I suck too."</p><p>Miguel takes his hands away from his face, turning back to Robby. "I don't think Hawk did the right thing," he says. "But I don't think he did the <em> wrong </em> thing, either. That's why I didn't stop him. Okay?"</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. And then, "You didn't call my dad, though."</p><p>"It should have been me who did it, Robby," Miguel says. "That's what your dad would have said."</p><p>Robby breathes out, soft. Flattens his palm into Miguel's shoulder and then, when Miguel lets him do it, pulls him close, into Robby's chest, so Robby can hold him tight and kiss his hair.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Tory does not text back. That's fucked up; Tory should text Robby back. It's not that hard to fucking text back. It is a school night and it's a Monday. Robby gets in his car and drives.</p><p>Beth looks the same. Bright-eyed, a little vicious. She's barefoot, just in a t-shirt and leggings. She holds the door open for him. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. </p><p>"Hey," Beth says. "I was wondering how long you'd be."</p><p>"You could have called," Robby says, stepping past her. "We're not friends." </p><p>"I know," Beth says. She shuts the door behind her. "Keep your voice down."</p><p>Tory's lying on the couch, not quite asleep but not fully there, either. She looks wrecked, like she's been crying, makeup all over her face. Someone - Beth? - put a blanket over her.</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. </p><p>"She's okay," Beth says. "She's just -"</p><p>"Robby?" Tory lifts her head. Her hair spills out of her braid - the one she wears for karate - and she blinks bloodshot eyes at him. "What are you doing here?" </p><p>"What do you think?" Robby asks. But it's easy to cross the room, perch on the edge of that nice white couch and lean down, press a kiss to Tory's forehead. Fucked up when Robby's the stable one in the relationship, that's all he has to say about that. "Just wanted to see you."</p><p>"Swayze," she murmurs. Closes her eyes. "Sorry, I think I'm cried out."</p><p>Now that Robby looks he can see the detritus of Tory, pissed off, out of control; there's a vase in pieces on the floor. </p><p>Beth catches him looking, raises one shoulder, drops it. "It's fine," she mouths. </p><p>Well, it fucking better be, given the circumstances. Robby makes to get up but Tory reaches out, tightens her hand in the fabric of his sweatpants. She's not looking at him, eyes shut, but shit, okay.</p><p>"Hey," he murmurs to her. Helps her lift up so he can sit down on the couch. </p><p>She sighs happily and puts her head in his lap. "Hi," she says, looking up at him. "Missed you."</p><p>"Missed you too." And then, to Beth - "What did you give her?"</p><p>"Nothing serious," Beth says, defensive. "She was freaking out so I gave her a Xanax. I didn't like, make her do it or anything."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. </p><p>Beth sits down on the floor in front of him, cross-legged, like a kid. "She's okay. We were just talking." </p><p>What he thinks of that must show on Robby's face. </p><p>"<em>Talking</em>," Beth says. "I really didn't mean to fuck it all up. I promise."</p><p>"It doesn't matter what I think," Robby says. He cards his fingers through Tory's hair. "Nichols, you wanna get out of here?" </p><p>She sighs. She's limp and heavy against him. "Not yet."</p><p>"Christ," he says, to Beth, not Tory. "You couldn't just have a conversation?"</p><p>Tory struggles, halfway up. "It's okay," she says. "It was okay." </p><p>He kisses her cheek, looking over her at Beth, who's watching them with her round, dark eyes. "Yeah?"</p><p>"We're not friends," Tory says, resting her elbow on Robby's thigh. "But we're not - I don't know. We couldn't be enemies. I wouldn't like that."</p><p>"I would hate that," Beth says. When she looks like this Robby can see the Sam in her, the earnestness, the way she wants to be liked. The way she wants to be looked at whenever she's in a room.</p><p>Tory's not like that. That's not what Tory wants. Tory just wants to be solid, stable, safe. Robby understands that; Robby would rather be in the corner, at the back, with a good exit plan. </p><p>Beth looks down at the carpet, at Robby's shoes. "Did you see him?" she asks. "Your ex. He was here." </p><p>Robby tenses up but he doesn't let it carry too much, doesn't want Tory to pick up on it. "Yeah. I saw him."</p><p>"He's a nice guy," Beth says. "All the good ones are gay, right?"</p><p>"You're welcome to him." Robby can feel Tory leaning against his shoulder, her breath against his neck. He wraps his arm around her shoulders so she can rest better. "You know nice guys aren't what they look like."</p><p>Beth's eyes flicker down, away. "Yeah," she says. "I know. It's not an excuse, but - I know."</p><p>Robby really doesn't remember much about that guy. Luke had a thousand friends, all of them various kinds of fucked up, all of them held at arms length, with the worst secrets Luke could uncover held against his chest, for a rainy day. (For Robby, this time.)</p><p>Robby doesn't have to remember that much to know who he was, though. </p><p>"I don't know what I would have done without you," Beth says. To Tory, not Robby. "It really would have been just so fucked up."</p><p>Tory drags her hand across her mouth and sits up, all the way. "Baby," she says, quietly, "I think next time you're gonna have to find out."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is fucking <em> tired. </em> Bone-tired, exhausted. He feels bruised-up, like after a long day of sparring, or when they were learning the kata at first and fell all the time. He just wants to sit in his bed and wrap himself in his blankets and maybe get high. </p><p>"Hey," Luke says. "I've been calling."</p><p>Robby says, "I've been busy." It comes out sharp. </p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. "You have a whole life now. Without me in it."</p><p>"Careful," Robby says. "I'll think you miss me."</p><p>That low, warm laugh. "Baby, you know I always miss you." There's an edge to it, though. Robby wouldn't notice if he didn't know him, but he does. Luke knows everything about Robby but that means Robby knows, if not everything, enough about Luke. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. He sits up. "What's going on? Are you okay?" </p><p>Silence. That means Robby got it right. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says again. "It's me, Luke. Remember? You can talk to me." </p><p>A low, long, exhale. "I wish you would come back," Luke says, finally. "I wish I could take it all back."</p><p>"What, you wanna take back the whole thing?" </p><p>"There were good parts," Luke says. "There must have been. I remember them." </p><p>Robby does, too. Luke was there for him when nobody else was, even if that was fucked up. Robby was the only person who was there for Luke. Luke doesn't trust people easily, at all. It was fucked up but it had been theirs. </p><p>"Maybe," Robby says. "That time we went to Palm Springs. That was fun." Luke's dad's credit card, getting high by the pool. Just the two of them, so Robby didn't have to share Luke with anyone, for once.</p><p>"Oh, yeah," Luke says. "For your birthday. Shit - that's soon, right?"</p><p>"Next week," Robby says. "I'm not doing anything, that's stupid. I'm not a kid."</p><p>"Fuck that," Luke says, so fast it's gratifying. "Let Shan make you a cake."</p><p>"She's in rehab," Robby says. </p><p>"People can make cakes in rehab," Luke says. "I would know."</p><p>"Yeah, whatever." Robby stretches out his legs. "What's going on with you? Don't bullshit me."</p><p>A long, slow exhale. "I don't know," Luke says. "It's harder than I thought it would be, without you. I guess I thought I'd care more once I got here, but I don't. School's a drag and everyone's the same, you know? I thought it would be more fun, I guess. But it's all exactly like it was back home. Except you're not here."</p><p>"Aw," Robby says. He kind of means it, kind of doesn't. "You say the nicest things when you miss me."</p><p>Luke says, "You should come out here. For your birthday. Or your birthday weekend, whatever. It'd be good for you to get out of there for a while. I'll fly you out, it's easy. I can pick you up in San Jose, there's a great taco place." </p><p>"<em>Luke</em>," Robby says. </p><p>"Fine," Luke says, petulant but not offended. "Be bored and alone on your birthday, that's fine, too." </p><p>"Glad I have your permission," Robby says. He leans back into his pillow. "I was really wasting away without it."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby is at Sam's, eating carrot sticks. He likes carrot sticks. His mom used to buy baby carrots sometimes and then not eat anything else, which you would think would make Robby weird about them, but actually they're fine. </p><p>Demetri is watching him eat carrot sticks. He's very long. You would think it would be less obvious how tall he is when he's sitting down, but it isn't. Just very long, proportionally.</p><p>"You have beady eyes," Robby says. "Like a weasel."</p><p>"Thanks," Demetri says. "My mom says they're nice."</p><p>"That's polite of her," Robby says. He bites another carrot stick. He would like to be out at Miyagi-do, punching the bag, but he can't because of this stupid Spanish project that he doesn't want to do. At least he has Sam and Demetri. If he had to have a partner he doesn't know he would probably just not do it. </p><p>Sam is in the kitchen, doing something with a bag of chips. Mrs LaRusso isn't home, she's been at work more, and Sam is not like, good at being the only adult in the house. It's kind of sweet to watch, actually, just her flailing around and forgetting to defrost a frozen lasagna. Tory wouldn't think that but Tory doesn't think anything about Sam is cute. Robby is working on it. </p><p>"So, uh," Demetri says. "Did you do the reading?" </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "I did the reading." Robby's Spanish does suck, actually. He's scraping by because he's trading Miguel Spanish for handstands, but obviously that's less of an option right now. Aisha picked Miguel up this morning, Robby saw the familiar shape of her car. </p><p>That sucked. But Robby isn't sure what he'd have said if Miguel had stuck around for him, so. </p><p>It's not like he actually has anything helpful to say or do. Hawk doesn't like him or listen to him, and he froze up in front of Kreese. Those are the big problems, as far as the Cobra Kai situation is concerned, and that puts Robby at 0 for 2. More than anything he just doesn't want to make it worse.</p><p>Demetri hums. "I think we should just do a poster. The online presentations look cool, but there are so many things that can go wrong, you know?" </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. He honestly can't remember what the online examples looked like, but he's not stupid, he can make a fucking poster. </p><p>"Hey," Demetri says. "I know I'm not Sam, but if you ever want to talk - I'm around too, you know."</p><p>Everyone on the fucking planet suddenly loves talking. What hell dimension did Robby fall sideways into? He hates it. </p><p>"Thanks," he says. Crunch, crunch. "Do you miss Eli?" Not Hawk.</p><p>Demetri blinks. Once, then again, like a startled desert bird in a sand dune. "Yeah," he says. "I mean, all the time. I'm not saying I miss getting thrown into trash cans and all that, but of course I miss him."</p><p>"Did you know he was going to - turn out like that?" Robby doesn't even know what he's asking. Doesn't know what he's reaching for, or why he's reaching for it from Demetri, of all people. </p><p>Demetri reaches across the table for a carrot stick. He's getting callouses on his knuckles, finally; the muscle memory's starting to kick in. "What do you mean?" </p><p>Robby raises one eyebrow, then the other for good measure. </p><p>Demetri laughs, softly. "Yeah, okay." He shuts his textbook and folds his arms over it. "Not really. He was just my friend, you know?"</p><p>"Right," Robby says. "I guess, I don't know. Like, you're a good person. And Sam's a good person. And Miguel. But not Hawk." <em> And not me. </em></p><p>Demetri looks at him very carefully. "I don't know if I'd go that far," he says. "I mean, you weren't around when Sam was being kind of awful. No offense, Sam." </p><p>"What!" she yells. Her hair bounces.</p><p>"Remember when you were friends with Yasmin?"</p><p>"Oh, yeah, I sucked." She comes back around with the bowl of chips, drops it in between them. "Look, I'm a domestic goddess."</p><p>"Wow," Robby says.</p><p>Demetri says, "I don't think it's a switch. More of a spectrum. Hawk was just on one end of it, for a while, and now he's-"</p><p>"All the way on the other side," Robby says. </p><p>"Yeah," Demetri says. "But like, <em> all </em>the way. That's the parabolic arc of like, a decapitating axe." </p><p>Robby sighs. "Miguel's not talking to me," he says. "It sucks."</p><p>"I'll kick his ass," Sam says, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. "Seriously, let me at him."</p><p>Robby laughs despite himself. "I think this time it might be my fault. But thanks." </p><p>Sam reaches out to tuck his hair back. "Hang in there, Robby," she says. "You gotta hold up a torch for the Miyagi-do men, they're not doing so hot right now." Sam is her dad's favourite and he hers, but he's the one who moved out. </p><p>"Hey," Demetri says.</p><p>"Aw, babe," she says, taking the seat beside him. When she tucks her head against his shoulder both of them smile, a soft sweet sunshiney thing Robby thinks is gross but also could bottle. "None of them would wear a Ms Marvel t-shirt, so obviously you're winning."</p><p>"I don't get that," Robby says. </p><p>"That's okay," Sam says, as Demetri opens his mouth like he's gonna launch into an explanation. "Maybe once this project is over Demetri can make you a powerpoint." </p><p>"I know you think that's a joke," Demetri says, "but honestly I'm ready to go."</p><p>"I didn't think it was a joke," Sam says, fondly. </p><p>It's nice because Demetri is, objectively, fucking weird. But Sam doesn't mind. It makes Sam weirder, and she seems like she likes it, too. Robby thinks he likes it, to watch. To be near. </p><p>"Okay," he says. "Somebody said something about a poster?"</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad is in the kitchen, staring at the stove. "Hey, kid," he says. "How was school?" He's wearing old sneakers, laces trailing, and jeans and a Cobra Kai t-shirt.</p><p>"Fine," Robby says. He squints so he can see what's happening on the stove. There's a pot, and something yellow in it. "Are you cooking?" </p><p>"It's mac and cheese," Robby's dad says. "I got the recipe from Aisha. Don't get excited."</p><p>"Don't worry, I wasn't." But Robby drops his bag on the floor and leans on the kitchen counter. "You talk to Miguel today?" </p><p>"Only about the dojo," Robby's dad says. "Should I?" </p><p>There's a bowl on the counter. Mrs LaRusso brought it over and filled it with fruit but since then it's just been keys, lighters, receipts, junk like that. "We got in a fight," Robby says. "So he might, like - wanna have feelings at you, or something." </p><p>Robby's dad puts his spoon down next to the stove. "Do you want to? Have feelings at me?" </p><p>"Uh, why would I do that?" The cheese looks kind of gross but Robby isn't like, a person who doesn't like gross cheese so he's not gonna complain. "You need help with that pasta?" </p><p>"I can cook pasta," Robby's dad says. </p><p>Robby does not believe that to be true but sure, okay; his dad's getting kind of prickly, not in the fun way. "Okay," he says. "You want a beer?"</p><p>Robby's dad says, "It's a school night," but then he says, "Yeah, all right."</p><p>Robby gets the beers out, condensation kissing his fingertips. "How was your date? I didn't hear you get home."</p><p>His dad blushes. <em> Blushes</em>. Ducks his head. "Yeah, it was good."</p><p>"Oh yeah?" Robby takes a long drink, lets the bitter carbonation sit on his tongue. "You didn't freak out at the bar?" </p><p>"Turns out it was just a bar," Robby's dad says. "Not that you should know what a bar looks like."</p><p>"Okay," Robby says, laughing. "Take after my old man, huh?"</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby's dad says. He squints down into the pot. "Do you think this needs salt?"</p><p>"I think it needs something," Robby says. "Probably more than one thing." </p><p>Robby's dad rolls his eyes at Robby and points the spoon at him. "Go clean up," he says. "Dinner in ten." </p><p>Fine. Robby goes. </p><p>It feels weird but like, not bad? Like, okay. </p><p>The mac and cheese smells... fine. It doesn't smell bad. Robby is cautiously optimistic.</p><p>"Did you use actual cheese for this?" Robby asks. "Wait, did you kill someone? Are you about to tell me you killed someone?"</p><p>"Jesus, no," Robby's dad says. "I think I'd be drunk if I was about to tell you I'd killed someone."</p><p>Robby shrugs. That does sound right.</p><p>They're sitting at the table, with food Robby's dad <em> cooked. </em>Robby has to laugh; it's fucking weird. It's extremely fucking weird.</p><p>"What!" Robby's dad says. </p><p>"It's okay," Robby says. He thinks he's smiling, despite everything, his face might hurt from laughing. "It's just - you made dinner. <em> You </em> made dinner." And then he has some more beer and settles down. "Is this a Ben thing? Did he teach you to cook?"</p><p>"It's not a Ben thing," Robby's dad says, poking his macaroni with his fork. "If it was a Ben thing this would have broccoli in it, and it doesn't."</p><p>"Good," Robby says. "Nutrition is for pussies, am I right?" </p><p>Robby's dad says, "I'm in great shape. Did not get here eating like a rabbit."</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Robby says. "Tell that to your liver." He stretches his legs out under the table and spears a macaroni. It doesn't, like, mush or anything, so it's probably fine. Honestly, it looks kind of good. Maybe Robby's just hungry. </p><p>Robby's dad narrows his eyes. "It's not poison."</p><p>"You eat first," Robby says. </p><p>"All right, smart ass," Robby's dad says, makes a big production out of taking a forkful and putting it to his mouth, chew, swallow. "Happy?"</p><p>"Exuberant," Robby says. </p><p>"You know," Robby's dad says, "we used to do that with you when you were a baby. The fork, the airplane." </p><p>Robby sips his beer and takes a bite of his mac and cheese. It's really like, totally fine. Does it taste like plastic? Yes. Is it the good kind of plastic? Also yes. "Really? You?"</p><p>Robby's dad ducks his head. "Not as much as I should have," he says. </p><p>"I was kind of a tough baby," Robby concedes. "I cried a lot." That's what his mom says, but she says it fondly. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "That's what babies do. And you were a cute kid, unreal. I had to talk your mom out of putting you in magazines." He laughs, a little, remembering. "That was the one time I talked Shan out of anything." </p><p>Robby makes a face. He could say something - <em> the one time you did anything, thanks for taking an interest </em>- but he's kind of tired of that, right now. He's still sore from Miguel, and he can see from his dad's crinkled-up eyes that he's trying. Can see from the way he looks at Robby that he's trying hard, even. "Man," he says, "I could have been so famous. Look at this face."</p><p>It's not until later, after they've cleared the plates and are sitting on the couch, that Robby's dad clears his throat. "About Diaz," he says. "Are you doing okay?" </p><p>Robby's on his second beer. He kicks his feet onto the coffee table, looks back up at the familiar ceiling, the familiar water stains. "I was kind of bad at being a boyfriend," he says. "The first time. I didn't really know what I was supposed to do. It's not like I had anything good to look at, between you and Mom, and fucking Sid."</p><p>"Fucking Sid," Robby's dad says.</p><p>Robby nods. "It's not that I wasn't trying," he says. "I liked - that guy - a lot. So much."</p><p>Robby's dad doesn't say anything, just looks at Robby with his clear eyes. That's good. If he started anything - if he said, <em> I'm sorry - </em>Robby would shut up and leave.</p><p>"It's kind of like you were with Kreese, I guess," Robby says. "Except obviously he wasn't my fake dad, he was my boyfriend. So maybe not like that. Just - I didn't want to say anything he didn't want to hear. Ever."</p><p>Robby's dad takes a soft, small, breath. Still silent, still there. </p><p>"I was like, I guess I was pretty young when we got together. It's not like he ever like, hurt me or anything. I would know, because of - you know." <em> Mom</em>. </p><p>Robby's dad doesn't move but he does blink. Just once. </p><p>"It wasn't like that." It's hard to say but it feels better, saying it. It feels kind of nice, like - well. It's kind of Robby's dad's fault that Robby ended up like that, right? It's like, he should know. But not in a mean way, really. But that if Robby says it it will be out in the open, and then it will be okay. Like how when you have an infected wound you have to pour rubbing alcohol on it, open it right up to the light. </p><p>"Good," Robby's dad says. "I'm glad."</p><p>Robby rubs one thumb over the other. "I liked him so much, you know? <em> So </em> much. He made me feel like I was the most important person in the whole world, and nobody had ever made me feel like that. And he was my best friend. He had an answer for everything that was fucked up or confusing. He just always knew what to do, and I didn't know anything. So even when I did have something to say, he was right when he didn't want to hear it."</p><p>Robby's dad closes his eyes, opens them. "Yeah," he says. "I understand that."</p><p>Robby bites his lip. "I was like that when I was with Sam. I just did whatever she wanted to do. Made it seem like it was my idea, but it wasn't. I just didn't want to fuck it up, because I'd fucked it up before and it sucked so, so, bad."</p><p>"Wait," Robby's dad says. "This is when you broke up with him? With Luke?" </p><p>Robby nods. He doesn't like hearing Luke's name in his dad's voice, but he doesn't have a way to say it that doesn't sound stupid. "He went away for school and stopped calling."</p><p>"Okay," Robby's dad says. "So you didn't fuck it up. He did."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Whatever. Six of one." </p><p>Robby's dad takes a long drink. "Sure." He doesn't sound like he means it, but it's fine. "So you thought Diaz might do it to you?" </p><p>Robby looks down at his own hands. "No." It's too sharp; he softens his voice. "He wouldn't do that. He's not like - he wouldn't. You know him." </p><p>"Not like you do," Robby's dad says. There's something different in it - something hidden, buried. Something hard. </p><p>"It's okay," Robby says. "I - did something that would hurt Miguel. And I knew it would when I did it. So I didn't tell him about it, until I was mad at him, and then I told him. And now he's mad at me, which makes sense. But I guess I don't know why I didn't tell him in the first place, and I don't know why I'm being such a fucking dick now." The more he says it the more it clicks into place. "My ex - Luke - he hated it when he upset me. So it was just easier to never be upset."</p><p>"But he still left." Robby's dad doesn't sound accusing. Just thoughtful. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. Doesn't need to say it, but he does anyway. "Just like you." </p><p>"Yeah," Robby's dad says, softly. "Diaz is a better man than I am, though." </p><p>Robby turns to look at him. It's getting easier to look at him, to be familiar with the shape of that face, those always-hurt eyes. "It's hard because so much of who I am is because of him. And the more I think about it the worse it feels." </p><p>Robby's dad reaches out for him and that's easy, easier than expected: Robby just leans sideways, lets his dad wrap his arm around Robby's shoulders. He smells like clean spice and beer. "Hey," he says. "From now on, I promise, I'm not going anywhere." </p><p>Robby closes his eyes.  "You didn't ask what I did," he says.</p><p>Robby's dad squeezes his shoulder. "You're a better man than I am, too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby has study hall last period on Tuesday. Normally he'd stick around, maybe do something with Sam, but he's getting a headache. Maybe it's the past few weeks catching up to him, maybe it's that he and Miguel have the same study hall and Miguel still hasn't talked to him and that fucking sucks. It's not like Miguel to not talk to him, but it is like Miguel to not talk until he's figured out the right thing to say. When Miguel was breaking up with Sam he said the wrong thing a bunch of times and ever since then he's been careful. And he is always careful with Robby.</p><p>Which, usually Robby likes to think about that. But right now he doesn't, because then he will remember that he was in fact not careful with Miguel, and that everything is already fucked up and it didn't need him to make it worse. </p><p>So: he's just gonna go home, and he's gonna prune his little trees, and maybe mist them. Maybe he'll do some reading into fertilizer. Robby's dad fucking loves the hardware store, he'll take any excuse to go.</p><p>"Hey, Dad," Robby says, coming in through the door. "You home?" </p><p>"Jesus Christ, Robby," says Mr LaRusso. "You scared the shit out of me." He's sitting on the couch with a beer, wearing - shit. Wearing one of Robby's dad's shirts. His feet are bare.</p><p>It's not, like, incriminating. It isn't. There are any number of reasons Mr LaRusso could be at Robby's dad's apartment, wearing Robby's dad's clothes. Like, a thousand. </p><p>None of them would be true, though.</p><p>"I'm going," Robby says. It's hard to get the words out when he kind of can't breathe, when it's like there's a tight band around his chest or someone is just squeezing his heart, like when you put fruit in a juicer at the mall, but with Robby's internal organs. "I - sorry. I should have knocked. I'm leaving."</p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says, getting to his feet, holding his hand out for Robby. "It's okay, hey." Damage control. Robby knows what damage control looks like.</p><p>It spikes in his belly - not fear, not anger, maybe something in between both of them, maybe something that isn't either of those things. It feels like Robby is being gnawed alive. </p><p>"Daniel? What-" Robby's dad comes out of the bedroom, and if there was a little part of Robby that was holding out hope, well, that's fucking dead now, because Robby's dad is barefoot, wearing old jeans and an undershirt. At least Robby's dad does him the credit of realizing how bad it is: it ripples across his face like lightning, a horrible realization, like someone seeing a shark in the water, or the moment when you cleared the half-pipe when you realize you're not gonna land right. "Robby."</p><p>"Hi, Dad," Robby says. <em> Dad </em> comes out like a slur, like he's been saying it his whole life. </p><p>Robby's dad doesn't flinch. He steps forward, like he wants to catch Robby, like if he says the right thing or reaches out for Robby in the right way everything will be undone. Robby would fucking love if that would happen. He would love to be unmade. </p><p>"Ben, huh?" Robby is spiky, knife-edged, hurting himself. He wants to rip flesh from bones, he wants- </p><p>He wants everything to be okay. He wants his dad to say, <em> hey, no, it's a mistake, </em>and he wants to believe it. </p><p>"I thought you were different." Robby's stupid face is blotching up, he can feel it hot and irritating along his cheeks. "You were being so fucking nice. I should have known something was going on. You wouldn't get it right if you had a gun to your head."</p><p>"Robby," says Mr LaRusso. </p><p>"Stay out of this," Robby's dad says, sharply. </p><p>"Don't talk to him like that," Robby says. That's easy. That makes sense. Robby's dad's a fucking asshole. Robby's dad always fucks everything up.</p><p>"No," Mr LaRusso says, "It's okay." He sits back down on the couch. He looks comfortable there, easy. Robby liked seeing him there before, even after everything got fucked up the first time. He - it felt nice that it was okay. That even though Robby had said <em> please don't do it </em> and his dad had said <em> okay </em> it was still all right, not worse, not falling apart.</p><p>"Please just talk to me," Robby's dad says. He's holding his hands open. His stupid shirt is ripped at the collar; Robby can see a rough red mark on his neck, like a fucking teenager would leave. "Whatever you want to say, it's fine. Just - stay here."</p><p><em> Don't run away. </em> That means there's somewhere Robby could be running <em> to</em>. "You talked to Diaz?"</p><p>Robby's dad blinks in confusion. It takes a moment; it settles. "He wants to talk to you. He's just working some stuff out."</p><p>That means he knows who Robby's been talking to. Which means: <em> he told me what you fought about. </em></p><p>Robby says, "How long?" </p><p>Robby's dad steps forward; Robby steps back, but his dad doesn't keep going. Just says, "This was the first time. I promise."</p><p>"Heard that before," Robby says. "What, were you just waiting to make it official? Is that why you've been over there so much?" He shakes his head. "Don't answer that, I don't care."</p><p>"Fuck," Robby's dad says. </p><p>"You <em> said, </em>" Robby says. He's shaking, maybe a little, maybe a lot. "Everything's already so fucked up. And now it'll be worse."</p><p>"It doesn't have to be worse," Robby's dad says, quietly, carefully. </p><p>It's like being punched in the teeth. "How long," Robby says, again. "The whole time? You were so convincing. I believed you when you said you wouldn't do it anymore. That's fucking - that's on me, I guess. I'm just fucking stupid."</p><p>"No," Robby's dad says. He looks like he's being cracked open. "Robby, I swear-"</p><p>"I don't want to hear it," Robby says. "Don't call."</p><p>"Robby-" Mr LaRusso starts, but Robby doesn't want to hear it, and he's not going to hear it, and that feels shitty because he owes Mr LaRusso big, pretty much all the time, for everything, but right now he just can't. </p><p>He doesn't even slam the door. That's growth, baby. Just a gentle click, and then he's gone.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's not a long flight. It's long enough that Robby's out of it, feeling that weird out of your body experience you get when you've been moving for a while, but not that long. He has a ginger ale and looks out the window. He didn't even tell Sam. Shit. Someone should tell Sam.</p><p>He doesn't want it to be him. For once, it can not be him.</p><p>It's a big airport. It's not like Robby's never flown before but he also like, doesn't do it a lot. He's not overwhelmed or anything. It's just not what he's used to. But he doesn't have much, just his backpack with his fucking Spanish homework in it.</p><p>He doesn't want to be thinking about his fucking dad - he hates thinking about it, it makes him feel sick and small and then hysterical, too, like there's no reason to be in his head, falling apart. Of course Robby's dad would lie to him. Robby's dad lies about everything. Robby's dad's been lying since the day Robby was born, which he obviously also does not even remember. </p><p>It's fucking stupid that Robby was stupid enough to believe him, to think that he'd changed, to think that the world was different. The world is the same as it ever was. Robby is just a sucker, even though he shouldn't be; he just keeps lining up to take those fucking shots.</p><p>Sometimes you just gotta take the predictable route. Even if it sucks at least you can see it coming. </p><p>It's dark outside - winter, early sunset. The air in here smells like luggage and the recycled air from the plane, or maybe that's just stuck in Robby's nose from the flight. He walks out into Arrivals, where it's a weekday, not busy, just guys in suits with rolling cases, a couple college kids dressed like Robby. He thinks about getting a coffee. His fingers are getting cold. </p><p>"Robby?" From across the hall, and Robby would know that voice anywhere, any universe. </p><p>"Hey." He turns, shoves his hands into his pockets, plasters a smile on his face. "Thanks for coming to get me."</p><p>"Oh," Luke says. He's so fucking big - solid and strong, like nothing could move him. He has a jaw like a superhero in a movie. "You cut your hair."</p><p>Robby ducks his head. "Sorry," he says. "I forgot to tell you."</p><p>Luke's fingers card through his hair, pushing it back, away from his face. He brushes his thumb against Robby's cheek, looking at him for a long moment with those steady, piercing eyes. "It's just not your best look, baby," he says. "But give me a second to get used to it."</p><p>Robby stands very still in Arrivals at San Jose Airport while Luke touches him. He's got muscle memory, it's easy to fall back into place.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"I'm not like this with anyone else," Robby says, quietly. "Just you."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: references to underage sex, drinking, drugs; abusive relationship dynamics; implied infidelity, a little orthorexia (luke).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robby turned sixteen in Palm Springs, at Luke's stepsister's vacation house. It was early February so nobody else had wanted it, and that meant it was theirs. They cut school and Luke drove them out, Robby's skateboard in the back seat on top of the matching weekenders Luke had bought them. It was a weekend away from LA, but Robby had asked for it - <em>just the two of us, just this one time</em> - and Luke had said, <em> how could I say no to you? </em> He was good at saying that to Robby, hotly and sweetly and with promise. </p><p>The house was beautiful, just a two bedroom townhouse but it had a pool and lush landscaping along the drive, and the furniture was beautiful in that modern way Luke's whole family liked. Robby had been there once before, in the summer, but that had been with two full cars of people, so it was different. </p><p>It was nice to be there, with Luke. They were together all the time anyway, but there were always so many people around Luke; he hated being alone, hated when there was silence anywhere. Robby didn't <em> mind </em> - his mom was like that, too, sometimes - but he liked it better when it was just the two of them, when Luke could spare all his attention for Robby and Robby alone. It reminded him of when they were just beginning, when Luke had said, <em> I don't think I've ever met anyone like you, Robby Keene, </em>and it felt like he meant it. </p><p>But they were together, just the two of them, in Palm Springs, and <em> god </em> it was nice. It was still cold out but they spent the first day in bed so it didn't matter. Luke laughed into his shoulder and said, <em> we drove all the way for this? </em> but not in a mean way, just warm and bright. </p><p>It was <em>good</em>. Robby wasn't romantic about being alone in a house but it was being alone in a house with <em> Luke </em>that he liked, the idea of having a place that was just for the two of them, not Luke's parents' huge echoing house but somewhere that was filled with the two of them. </p><p>They did crawl out of bed eventually, just to the living room to sprawl out there in boxers and nothing else. The couches were more comfortable here than at Luke's parents', or maybe it was just that there was really no chance of anyone walking in on them, not like in Calabasas, where the chance was only ninety percent.</p><p>"Hey," Luke said, while Robby was flipping through the songs on the stereo, trying to find something he wanted to listen to that Luke would like, too. "I know what you did."</p><p>Robby said, "What?" And then - "Oh." He put his phone down and tucked his hair behind his ear so he could look at Luke through his eyelashes, the way Luke was always telling him he couldn't resist. "Sorry." </p><p>Luke didn't look pissed, though. He was smiling, the broad easy smile that settled in Robby's chest and made him feel like everything in the world was going to be all right. "It's okay," he said. "I didn't want to go to Brown anyway."</p><p>"What's wrong with UCLA?" Robby said. "It's close." </p><p>"So you wouldn't fuck up my admissions essay if I applied there?" Luke grinned. </p><p>Robby brazened it out. "Yeah, well. The East Coast sucks, you're too blond for that shit. You'd miss the beach. I was doing you a favour." </p><p>"I hear they have good clam out there," Luke said. But he reached out for Robby, a lazy possessive stretch of his fingers into Robby's waistband, drawing him close. "You were kinda rude."</p><p>"Shouldn't leave yourself logged in on your laptop," Robby said. "You never know who's around." He let himself be pulled, let his thighs settle on either side of Luke's lap. Luke's chest was broad and bare against his fingertips. </p><p>"Sorry for not predicting that my boyfriend would rewrite my application letter," Luke said. His eyes glimmered, laser-focused on Robby’s mouth. "To tell the board to fuck themselves."</p><p>"Well," Robby said, reasonably, "I didn't want you to talk your way out of it."</p><p>"I'm not going to UCLA," Luke said. "I know everyone there already." His thumb was on Robby's hip, stroking gently. "I've been to all the parties."</p><p>Robby flattened his palm against Luke's chest, at the start of his abs. "Okay." </p><p>"Not Berkeley," Luke continued. "Too many nerds. If you want me to stay in-state, you better not touch my Stanford app." </p><p>"Yeah?" Robby bit his lip, watching Luke watch him do it. "It's your first choice?"</p><p>"It's not that far," Luke said. "You can drive out, if you want. Once you can drive."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby said. He let himself smile, though. "You won't go out east?"</p><p>"Like you said. I think it'd be bad for my tan." He blinked up at Robby, innocently, like Robby hadn't been freaking out for three and a half months, while Luke sent out his applications and waited for the responses to come in. "They have a good business school. Dad says the networking is good."</p><p>"All right," Robby said. He let his other hand settle on the side of Luke's neck. "So, you're saying I win?" </p><p>"I'm not sure I should reward such bad behaviour," Luke said, lightly, but he was leaning up already, fingers digging into the sides of Robby's hips. "But what else am I gonna do? You're so fucking cute." </p><p>Robby let himself shiver, the way he always shivered, even after all that time. "Thanks," he said, and then Luke was kissing him, fingers tangled in his hair, hard enough to hurt, but only a little; the kind of hurt that reminded you you were there. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's late, dark out enough that Robby's glad he's wearing a jacket. It's starting to rain, just a fine drizzle that cuts through the streetlights onto damp concrete.</p><p>Luke's wearing jeans and a thick sweater, Robby's backpack slung over one shoulder. He looks like a college kid. Robby guesses that's what he is. "You hungry?" he asks. </p><p>Robby thinks about it. He had lunch and then he freaked out and there's still a knot in his stomach, where it's been all day. "Not really."</p><p>Luke narrows his eyes, looking for something in Robby's face. "It's late," he says. "C'mon, I'll buy you a burger."</p><p>Robby can vividly feel how it's going to sit in his stomach. Greasy, heavy, unmoving. He's going to feel sick the whole drive. "Okay." </p><p>"It's a little colder out here," Luke says, companionably. "Not quite as nice as LA. There are other nice things out here, though."</p><p>"Sure," Robby says. He follows Luke to his car - not the Rover, an Audi instead. It's nice, like everything Luke touches. Less full of garbage than the Rover, which is nice. Still has a little of that new-car smell. "I could have taken the train."</p><p>"It's fine," Luke says. "It's not a bad drive. I like getting to see you." </p><p>He pulls out of the lot and onto the road, and they sit in silence for the three minutes it takes to pull into the drive-through at the Burger King nearby. </p><p>Robby doesn't have the energy to raise an eyebrow, he just takes the paper bag Luke hands him. "Thanks."</p><p>"Sure," Luke says. He only ordered a coffee. He did not ask Robby what he wanted.</p><p>It's a nice car. Robby holds his wrapped burger in his hands, looking out the dashboard, spattered with rain. "I really appreciate you flying me out. I don't know what I would have done if I couldn't come here."</p><p>"Of course," Luke says. He looks over at Robby, sincere, almost sweet. His face is pale in the light. "I'm glad you called."</p><p>"I didn't have anyone else," Robby says. His chest hurts again, and his eyes. Fuck. He was okay the whole flight, didn't fucking lose it one time. Now he's here and he feels -</p><p>"It's okay," Luke soothes. He reaches out, settles his hand on Robby's thigh. It's stupid but it helps. It feels like Robby is anchored, like he's not going to float away. "You don't have to tell me right now. You should eat."</p><p>"In a minute," Robby says.</p><p>"Hey," Luke says, not meanly, but firmly. His thumb digs into Robby's thigh. "Do it now."</p><p>Robby's body moves on autopilot. He unwraps his burger, takes one bite, chews, swallows.</p><p>"See?" Luke says. "Feel better?"</p><p>Robby's mouth tastes like paper. "Yeah."</p><p>"It's not too long of a drive," Luke says, letting go of Robby's leg to tap at his mounted phone. "Maybe half an hour? I need the map though, bear with me."</p><p>"Sure." Robby takes another bite, and then a sip of Luke's coffee. That at least tastes like something: black, bitter, hell. At least that hasn't changed; Luke's always being weird about food in one way or another. Robby does not fondly remember the month of keto. "Jesus, that's bad."</p><p>Luke's mouth quirks in amusement. "That's why I didn't get you any. There's water in the back, if you want some."</p><p>"Thanks." Robby unclips his seatbelt, half-crawls over the centre console. There's half a flat of Fiji water in the backseat; he digs one out, hearing Sam's voice in the back of his head complaining about recycling. Shh, Sam. </p><p>"Music okay?" </p><p>"Yeah." Robby buckles back in, swallows a long mouthful of water. It's room temperature and tastes faintly of plastic. "Were you waiting long?"</p><p>"Nah, like ten minutes. Traffic was good, I was a little early." He flips through Apple Music, puts on something with a beat, too quiet for Robby to pay close attention but enough that there's something to focus on in the background. "Sometimes the flights get crazy delayed, I was watching my phone."</p><p>It's so fucking <em> weird</em>, talking like this. Like everything's fine, like nothing's changed, but everything has to get them both here. </p><p>Robby eats his burger. The more he eats the more it starts to taste like food, not just chemical. Maybe he was actually hungry. He hates when Luke is right about shit like this, like he knows what Robby needs more than Robby does. </p><p>"Feeling better?" Luke looks over at him, easy grin back in place. </p><p>Robby balls up his wrapper and puts it back in the paper bag, folds the top down neatly so he can put it down by his feet. "Yeah. Thank you."</p><p>Luke sighs, very softly. Like he's worried about Robby. </p><p>Robby should be more suspicious but, god, he feels like shit. He just wants to be here, where things are not complicated and he does not have to make any choices, because Luke is here for that. All he has to do is sit here and do what Luke wants and it will be fine. </p><p>"You want me to call Shan?" Luke asks. And then, more quietly, "Or your dad?"</p><p>Robby sinks back into his seat. It's stupid; he can take on four guys at once, now. He's not supposed to feel like this. "Maybe Mom."</p><p>Luke hums in approval. "I don't want anyone to think you got kidnapped."</p><p>Robby laughs. "Yeah," he says. "Big chance of that." </p><p>Luke reaches back across the console, hand on the seat next to Robby. Robby looks at it for a long moment but then he takes it so Luke can squeeze his palm, just the once. "You're doing good, kid."</p><p>Robby hiccups. He is <em> not </em> doing good, but he's still wired to respond to Luke’s praise. It gets into his lizard brain, tells him to calm down, breathe easy. He looks out the window. The rain's getting heavier, thicker, soaking into the sidewalks and the pavement. The streetlights gleam, refracting into the water droplets before the windshield wipers break them apart.</p><p>Luke's on the phone anyway. "Hey," he's saying. "Can I talk to Shannon Keene, please? It's about her son."</p><p>Robby zones out for most of it. He knows what Luke sounds like, and he knows what his mom sounds like, and there are trees and strip malls to look at, and cars passing by. </p><p>"So, like I said, he's fine," Luke says, wrapping up. "If you could let his dad know-"</p><p>"Sure," Robby's mom says. She sounds a little worried, but like she's not trying to let it show. "Is he there? Can I talk to him?"</p><p>Luke raises an eyebrow at Robby; Robby shakes his head. "He'll call you tomorrow," Luke says, reassuring. </p><p>"All right," she says. "Tell him I love him, okay?"</p><p>Robby is going to fucking lose it. He hates this. He feels like he's going to come apart at the seams, like he's vibrating at the wrong frequency, like everything is fucking <em> wrong </em> and he has fucked up all of it. </p><p>"He loves you, too," Luke says. "Have a good night, okay, Shan? He'll call you tomorrow." And then he hangs up and pulls the car over, to the side of the freeway, so all the cars can streak past them, and Robby can climb over the console and into Luke's arms, Luke stroking his hair and murmuring softly while Robby hides his face in Luke's sweater and, just barely, does not sob.</p><p>Luke lets Robby sit there for what feels like a long time, and then, gently, eases his shoulders back, so Robby can look at him in the face. "Baby," he says. The kindness shines out of him, the way it did when Robby fell in love with him. He looks at Robby like he matters. "Fifteen more minutes. You can do it, right?" </p><p>Robby swallows. He can feel the honey-warmth of Luke's gaze pour down his spine. "Yeah."</p><p>Luke smiles. "Yeah, you can." He drops his hands to Robby's hips, helps him lift up, settle back into the passenger seat. He leans over and presses a kiss to Robby's forehead. His lips are dry and warm. "It's gonna be okay."</p><p>"I'm not like this with anyone else," Robby says, quietly. "Just you."</p><p>Luke is still looking at him. "Like what?" </p><p>Robby looks out at the road. "You know. Like this." It's not like he crawls into anyone else's fucking lap. He doesn't even cry into his mom's shoulder. Just Luke, where he loses his fucking mind. </p><p>"You're not like anything," Luke says. "You're the toughest person I know. Okay?"</p><p>Robby laughs, has to. "Okay."</p><p>"I mean it," Luke says. His fingers catch Robby's chin, turning his face back to Luke. "Whatever this is, you wouldn't freak out for nothing. And I'm glad you came here, you're here, with me." He looks so god damn sincere. "I like taking care of you."</p><p>Robby shivers, but Luke doesn't let go. </p><p>"You and me, kid," Luke murmurs. Eyes like the ocean, like the endless sky. "Remember?" </p><p>Robby nods. He does. </p><p>The rest of the drive is quick, quiet. Luke turns up the stereo and tells Robby about his roommates, a long string of words that doesn't require any input from Robby, and that's good, because it fills up the space in Robby's brain instead of the buzzing of bees.</p><p>It's still raining when they pull in. Luke parks on street - "Couldn't get a permit freshman year," he complains, "had to take the fucking golf carts everywhere" - and pulls Robby's backpack out of the back seat. "This way."</p><p>It's nice, for a dorm, like a real apartment. Nicer than Robby's mom's old place for sure, and probably nicer than his dad's. It has three bedrooms and a kitchen and a bathroom, big TV on the wall, a whole crate of empties by the door. The living room has one couch and two big armchairs, and a little table and a lamp. There's no carpet. Robby figures it would be a bitch to change out between occupants, and you'd have to. </p><p>There's a guy on the couch, reading. He sits up when Luke opens the door. </p><p>"Oh, hey," Luke says. He crosses the room and leans over the couch to kiss the guy. "You're still here?" </p><p>"Yeah, Karen's boyfriend was at our place. I fucking hate the sound of his voice, I can't do any reading when I hear it. Scott and Mike are out anyway, it's quieter here than the library."</p><p>Luke makes a sympathetic sound. "Sounds like Karen needs a new boyfriend."</p><p>"I've been saying," the guy says. And then he looks at Robby and says, "Jesus, sorry, I'm so fucking rude. Hi, you must be Robby. I'm Trip." He puts his book down and gets to his feet. </p><p>Robby feels approximately four feet tall, dishevelled from the plane and the crying and the long fucking week it's been. "Nice to meet you." He takes Trip's hand and they shake.</p><p>Trip is not as tall as Luke, but he's taller than Robby, probably a little taller than Miguel. He's wearing dark blue jeans and a grey sweater and he's paler than Luke, dark-haired and dark-eyed. If Luke's a California kid this guy is the East Coast version. He looks like someone pulled him out of a member's only club in New York. </p><p>If Robby wanted to piss Luke off he'd say, <em> sorry, which roommate are you? </em>but he doesn't, so he doesn't. But it's good to know some things don't change. </p><p>"Glad you could come visit," Trip's saying. "I'm always saying I'm jealous, it's way too far for my friends from DC to come out for a weekend."</p><p>"Oh, I bet," Robby says, plastering his best company smile on his face. He can see Luke watching him do it, the tiniest smirk of approval that makes Robby warm inside, like fucking always. "Thanks for having me."</p><p>Trip smiles, friendly and easy. "Any friend of Luke's is a friend of mine, obviously. Can I get you a drink?" </p><p>Luke clears his throat, looking pointedly at Robby and then back to Trip. "Robby had a long trip," he says. "I think we're gonna take it easy tonight, catch up a little."</p><p>Trip laughs, unfazed. "All right, I can read the room, I'll let you two-" he pauses, drawing the words out, "- catch up. Robby, how long are you here? You have to come to our friend Dean's party, it's tomorrow night."</p><p>"Sounds good," Robby says. "I've never been out here before, you'll have to show me the sights."</p><p>"This kid," Trip says. "Where'd you find him?" </p><p>"Like I've been saying," Luke says amicably, "you gotta come to LA for the summer. It's where all the best people are."</p><p>Trip picks up his book and the satchel by the door. "I'll do it if you give me a month in DC. How's that for a deal?" </p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Luke walks him to the door, though, both of them skirting Robby carefully. "I'll see you tomorrow."</p><p>Trip kisses him, swiftly but with tongue. "Night. Nice to meet you, Robby! I owe you a drink, remind me."</p><p>"Will do," Robby says. "I'm sure I'll see you soon."</p><p>"Luke, you heard him." Trip beams, megawatt bright. "Okay, goodnight. Have fun!" He winks, and lets the door shut behind him. </p><p>Robby hates him. Every single fucking thing about him grates on Robby's last nerve, which was already fucking frayed, so. Trip. What kind of a name is Trip? </p><p>"Short for Triple," Luke says, wryly. "Come here."</p><p>Robby doesn't want to. "You have a boyfriend."</p><p>"So do you, baby. You're the one who called me."</p><p>That's true. Robby sighs and steps forward, lets Luke wrap his arms around Robby and rest his chin on the top of Robby's head. </p><p>"He's nice," Luke says. "You'll like him."</p><p>"I won't," Robby says, muffled by Luke's sweater. </p><p>"Okay," Luke concedes. His arms tighten around Robby's back. "But you'll make him think you like him. Just like you did now." Firm and assured, like there's no other option. </p><p>There isn't. "I'm not going to be rude," Robby says. </p><p>"That's my guy," Luke says, letting go of him. "You want a drink?" </p><p>"Okay." Might as well. "Actually, can I have a shower? I feel like airport."</p><p>"Sure. I'll find you a towel, c'mere. My room's this one." He tows Robby by the hip and Robby lets himself be towed. </p><p>The room is little, the same size as Robby's at his dad's. Luke's managed to cram a queen size mattress in it somehow, and between that and the desk piled with textbooks and a bottle of Jack there isn't room for much else. </p><p>Luke puts Robby's backpack down at the end of the bed. "I know I don't have any of your clothes here," he says. "We can go to the mall tomorrow if you want, I only have class in the morning." He pauses. "I can skip it if you need."</p><p>"No," Robby says. "I'm not a puppy, you can leave me alone for a couple hours, I won't wreck the place."</p><p>Luke ruffles his hair. "Okay." He digs around in the closet and comes out with a towel and a t shirt, sweatpants that Robby can already see will be laughably big on him. That's a nice thing about Miguel: Robby doesn't look stupid when they share clothes. Usually he just looks kinda jacked, because Miguel's clothes are always just slightly too small. "Use whatever's in the shower, nobody cares."</p><p>"Cool." Robby balances the pile of cloth in his arms. "Where are your roommates?" </p><p>"Mike's at his girlfriend's," Luke says. "Scott's doing a frat thing, he doesn't live there but he goes to all their events. He won't be home till really late." His smile is small and careful. "I thought you might just wanna crash."</p><p>Robby's face must show his relief. Luke laughs, kindly. "Shot first or shower? Just one, I promise." </p><p>Robby considers, eyeballing the bottle on the desk. "Shot." He puts his towel down on the bed. </p><p>Luke says, "Attaboy." He unscrews the bottle cap, takes one swift gulp and hands it over.</p><p>It burns but that's okay. Robby coughs and hands the bottle back. He can already feel the warmth burning down into his belly. </p><p>The bathroom is predictably gross, not that Robby can complain. Robby showers quickly, wrapping himself in Luke's clothes like a cocoon. He pads back into Luke's room, hair dripping down the back of his neck. </p><p>Luke's sitting on his bed, legs stretched out. The window's behind his head, shades drawn, but some of the darkness leaks past the edges of it. "I can crash in Mike's room," he says, looking up. "If you want. Just getting that out there."</p><p>Robby doesn't want to say <em> stay </em> so he doesn't, just sits down beside him, swings his legs up onto the mattress. He wonders how Luke got it in here. It's really too big.</p><p>Luke doesn't say anything, but he puts his arm around Robby's shoulders. He smells the same as ever. </p><p>"I don't want to talk about it," Robby says. "It'll sound stupid."</p><p>"Okay," Luke says. "But it's now or later."</p><p>Robby says, "Trip seems nice."</p><p>Luke laughs, the way he always laughs when Robby sounds like a kid. "Yeah. He's cool."</p><p>"Been together long?" </p><p>Luke pets the side of Robby's neck, long gentle strokes. "Six months, if you ask me. Eight if you ask him."</p><p>Robby flinches. He does feel that. </p><p>"Hey," Luke says, tightening his grip so his fingerprints settle against Robby's pulse. "You didn't think I was going to wait around."</p><p>"No," Robby says. "That would be stupid." He sounds sulky, like Anthony when Mrs LaRusso makes him eat a vegetable. </p><p>"<em>Robby</em>." </p><p>"Sorry," Robby says. He even means it. Like Mr LaRusso taught him, holding on to bitterness just fucks him up. He was doing good not thinking about Mr LaRusso, and now he is thinking about Mr LaRusso again, and that sucks a lot. He sighs, from deep in his chest.</p><p>Luke drops a kiss to the top of his head. "I really don't get this hair," he says. "You look like a little Ken doll." </p><p>Robby likes it. He likes that he looks like himself, not just a cloud of hair and bad attitude. "I kept getting invited to all these 80s parties," he says. "I could only play Spader. I needed options, you know?" </p><p>"Sure," Luke says. He leans back against the wall and pulls Robby in closer, so Robby can rest his head against Luke's chest. It feels safe. Like nothing can touch him in here, except for Luke. Like there's a huge wall around him, keeping everything else out. </p><p>Robby's phone is at the bottom of his bag. Maybe it's dead, maybe it isn't. He hasn't looked at it since he got on the plane. He doesn't want to think about that, either.</p><p>God, he's so fucking tired. He's so tired he could sink through the floor, all the way down through the crust of the Earth, into the molten core. He could just float there, like the Silver Surfer. </p><p>"What class do you have?"</p><p>"Management," Luke says. "It's boring." He shifts so he can angle his arm across Robby's chest where it rests like a bar, like a safety belt. "It's all boring. It sucks." </p><p>Robby says, "At least it doesn't snow."</p><p>Luke says, "You're right." He cards his other hand through Robby's hair. "Can I guess? You can say hot or cold." </p><p>Robby closes his eyes. "Okay. But I want another drink and I don't want it to be a shot."</p><p>Robby thinks maybe Luke is going to kiss him then. He wouldn't kiss back. Probably. He doesn't want to.</p><p>But Luke doesn't kiss him. He just untangles himself from around Robby and says, "Coming right up."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby didn't mean to meet Luke's dad, like Luke hadn't meant to meet Robby's mom. The difference was that Robby's mom was cool and fun and a little drunk, breezing into the apartment when Robby and Luke were just there to pick up Robby's backpack. She kissed Luke on the cheek and told Robby he was handsome, and that was that; she loved him. </p><p>When Robby met Luke's dad he was kind of hungover, wearing Luke's sweater and some basketball shorts. They'd been at a party until really late, four maybe, and Luke had carried him in through the back door. At least <em> that </em> wasn't Luke's dad's first impression. </p><p>It wasn't early but it wasn't late either. Luke had gotten up before Robby to go look for food, and Robby had sat around in bed waiting for him for at least twenty minutes before he finally got up the nerve to go find him. The house was big but he was more used to it now than he had been, at the start. It had been three months since they'd started doing whatever it was they were doing, if Robby was counting - he was - and he'd never met a single adult in Luke's house who wasn't staff, never seen a single person who wasn't someone Luke had invited, or there for a party. </p><p>The point was that he had basically assumed Luke was an orphan, living off family money or something, along with the extra from the molly and the weed he sometimes handed out in exchange for cash or ious. He knew Luke wasn't, because that would have been weird and Luke wasn't weird, but he had adjusted to simply not thinking about it. </p><p>He found Luke in the kitchen, standing at the big marble island. There was a man sitting on one of the barstools, wearing a crisp white shirt and grey slacks. He looked like Luke, handsome in that same kind of All-American way. His hair had silvered where Luke's was still bright blond but when the man turned to look at Robby he had those same bright, piercing eyes. He looked kind of like Robby's dad, but Robby's dad looked like shit whenever Robby saw him, which was not often, and this man definitely did not spend all his money on bottom-shelf beer.</p><p>"Robby," Luke said. He looked a little panicked, which he rarely looked, and underdressed to boot in the boxers he'd slept in and a hoodie over the top. His hair was rumpled like he'd tried to fix the bedhead and then given up. "This is my dad. Senator Malone. Dad, this is Robby."</p><p>"At least this one's age appropriate," Luke's dad said, looking at Robby like he was something to be scraped off the bottom of an expensive pair of shoes. "Where'd you find him, Skid Row?" </p><p>"Dad," Luke said. "Robby's my boyfriend. We go to school together."</p><p>"I knew public school was a bad idea," Luke's dad said, turning away from Robby like he'd seen all he needed to see. "Your mother said do it for his career. Here we are."</p><p>Robby felt his face flush, felt himself get hot and pissed off. "Luke's class president," he said. "He has like fifteen extra curriculars. He's gonna graduate cum laude."</p><p>Luke blinked at him. Maybe a little grateful? He never looked at Robby like that, like he was on his back foot and needed help. "Thanks."</p><p>Robby shrugged back at him. "Everyone's friends with Luke," he said. "He's not going to get<em> that </em> yearbook anywhere else." </p><p>"All right," Robby's dad said, but maybe not quite as stiffly as before. <em> Maybe</em>. "You can call him off, Lucas, I don't have anything else to talk to you about." </p><p>Robby said, "Yeah, nice to meet you too," and turned on his heel.</p><p>It took a couple minutes but Luke came back to his bedroom, knocking once carefully on the door before cracking it open. </p><p>Robby had climbed back into last night's clothes. They smelled like beer but whatever, who gave a shit? As least they fucking fit him. He was shaking, maybe, sitting on the end of Luke's stupid enormous bed. He wanted to go home, but if he went home his mom would be there with her boyfriend, and he would have to pretend he didn't want to punch that guy's fucking face in, and it would be a whole thing. He'd do it, though.</p><p>Luke said, "I'm sorry." He stood in the doorway, looking nervous. He never looked nervous, especially not where Robby was concerned. Luke always knew how everything worked, how <em> Robby </em> worked. Now he was shifting from foot to foot. </p><p>Robby flattened his palms against his thighs and said, "It's okay." </p><p>Luke bit his lip and made a decision, took one step forward and then another, until he was in front of Robby at the foot of the bed. "I'm sorry," he said, again. His hands dangled at his sides like he wanted to do something with them but wasn't sure what it was. </p><p>"My dad sucks," Robby said. "So, it's fine." He didn't mean it. He was shaking, still. He felt brittle and tight, but he knew he didn't want Luke to see it, not while they were like this - while Robby had stood up for him and Luke had simply stood.</p><p>"It's not," Luke said. He was so tall, it hurt Robby's head to look up at him, so Robby dropped his head and let his eyes rest on Luke's chest. Luke saw him do it and sighed, dropping to his knees, so he could rest his own hands on Robby's thighs. </p><p>Robby should have pulled away but he didn't. He just let Luke do it. He could feel Luke shaking, too. </p><p>"I didn't know he'd be back," Luke said, quietly. "He was supposed to be in Vermont. If I'd known, I wouldn't have - I didn't want you to have to see him." </p><p>Robby dropped his head forward, so their foreheads could press against each other. He could feel the bitterness melting away, replaced with something else, something fonder and more concerned. "Okay." </p><p>Luke's breath came softly against Robby's mouth. "I know. I'm sorry. He's - well, now you know."  He really was never like this - quiet, almost fragile. Robby had always thought of Luke as indestructible.</p><p>"Fuck him," Robby said. He said it with venom, because he knew nobody else would get to see Luke like this, so he wanted to make sure somebody said it. </p><p>"I don't want to think about him any more," Luke said. "C'mon, I'll buy you ice cream."</p><p>Robby tucked himself into Luke's shoulder. "Okay."</p><p>Luke took a breath and seemed to get stronger, getting to his feet and curling his hand around Robby's jaw to tip his chin up. "Love you, kid."</p><p>"Oh," Robby said. "I love you, too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby waits for Luke for a little while, stretched out on top of the covers, but then his mind starts to get to him, he starts to think too much. He starts to think about his tiny bed at home - at his dad's, whatever - about how there's never enough space, how he always runs too hot. </p><p>Fuck. </p><p>He gets up and pads out into the living room. </p><p>Luke's in the kitchenette, pouring into a solo cup. "Hey, sweetheart."</p><p>"I didn't think you liked guys like that," Robby says, balancing on the top of the back of the squashy dark brown couch, so he can look over the kitchen counter at Luke. He stretches his toes down to the grimy-ass floor for balance. </p><p>"Like what?" Luke asks. He sips from the cup, makes a face. "You know I like handsome."</p><p>"Like," Robby waves his hand through the air. "Like. The same age as you. Older."</p><p>"Ah," Luke says. He does something to the cup, tastes it again. "He really is nice."</p><p>"You're not nice," Robby says. </p><p>Luke starts pouring into a second cup. "Careful, sweetheart," he says. "I'm gonna think you miss me." </p><p>I miss you all the fucking time, Robby thinks. Every fucking moment. </p><p>That's not true, though. It just feels like it. </p><p>Luke tastes the second cup and nods to himself, satisfied. "Here or there?" </p><p><em> Wherever you are </em>, Robby thinks. God, that would be stupid to say out loud. </p><p>He pushes off with his toes, sliding backwards into the couch cushions. He lands with a soft thunk. "Here's fine."</p><p>Luke comes around, hands Robby a cup and lifts his feet so Luke can sit down under them. His fingers curl around Robby's ankle bone. "I could ask you the same thing. That boy?" </p><p>"He's <em> actually </em> nice. Not just pretending to be." It feels like Robby's carving it out of his chest to say it, so he takes a long drink. "Oh, that's good." </p><p>"Yeah? Trip's roommate gave me the recipe. It's a calorie bomb but you could use it."</p><p>Robby sits up, so he can wedge his shoulder against the back of the couch. Even if Luke's got his legs it's good to have a little leverage. "I work out."</p><p>"Yeah," Luke says, wryly. "I said, it freaks me out when you skateboard, and you said, okay, time to pick up cage fighting."</p><p>Technically Luke didn't say anything, because Luke was gone when Robby started taking karate, but Robby doesn't want to say that. He wiggles his toes against Luke's thigh. "S'fun."</p><p>"Okay," Luke says. "Don't tell me from the ER." </p><p>Robby says, "Got my shoulder dislocated in my first tournament. Then Miguel kicked it in. That's why I didn't win."</p><p>"Jesus," Luke says. His fingers flutter against Robby's legs, through the sweatpants. "Knew I didn't like that guy."</p><p>Robby laughs into his cup. "You don't like a dirty fight?" </p><p>"I don't like anything that gets you hurt." He looks sincere, but he's good at that. "Is that why you're here?" </p><p>Robby grins, teeth sharp. "I was surprised you didn't wanna check." The old Luke would have followed him into the shower, run his hands all over Robby's body, pressing down on all the bruises until they were all Luke's, not anyone else's. </p><p>"Oh, I wanted to." Luke grins back. This is not nice but it's right, something Robby understands. Pushing Luke just enough, a line he spent two years learning just how to walk. "You offering?" </p><p>Robby shivers. </p><p>Luke breathes out, fast. "Hey."</p><p>"It's okay." Robby looks at the flat black screen of the off television, where he can see them reflected. His hair is short and he looks tiny, drowning in that big shirt, thick sweatpants. Luke is sitting with one hand on Robby's thigh, feet propped against the edge of the little table in front of the couch. They look just like they used to look, except that Robby's hair is different and this couch fucking sucks. </p><p>"Okay," Luke says. He taps his fingers again, warm and strong against Robby. "Was it a karate thing?" </p><p>Robby hums, considering. "Cold," he decides. "But also warm. Like, lukewarm."</p><p>Luke laughs, gently. "Can't get a straight answer out of you." </p><p>"You have to drink," Robby says, poking his shoulder. "That's the game."</p><p>"Oh, is it?" But he drinks, a long swallow. Easy to watch. "Boyfriend slash girlfriend? That gets to be one, don't make that face."</p><p>Robby shuts his mouth on the protest, considers it. "Yeah, warmer." His turn to drink. It tastes warm, spicy, like something you'd have in a mountain lodge where it was snowing. Not that it's snowing here, just raining, again. </p><p>"Boyfriend?" Luke asks. "Actually, no, girlfriend, that's my guess. What happened with Will, anyway? I heard he had a slip and fall." </p><p>Robby stiffens, knows Luke can feel that because it ricochets up his spine and Luke closes his hand around Robby's ankle, firm. "I'll drink," he says. "But it's a secondary issue." He does drink. His mouth feels warm. He feels both bad and not-bad. Like when you're on a rollercoaster, maybe, except not quite like that. He feels like he's with Luke. Maybe that's the only way to describe it.</p><p>"You wanna talk about that?" Luke asks. </p><p>"Are you calling it in?" Robby asks. Will's name cost him a favour. Not the most he's ever given Luke but not nothing, either. "That's not why I'm here." It isn't. And he doesn't want to give Luke Tory's business if he can help it. He trusts Luke in a certain way, like, with <em> Robby</em>, but Tory doesn't know anything about him. Because Robby doesn't <em> want </em> her to know anything about him.</p><p>Because Tory matters. Robby doesn't want to think about that. He's not here for Tory and if he was going to think about Tory he wouldn't have come here. So.</p><p>"All right," Luke says. His eyes are gleaming as he looks at Robby over the rim of his cup. "You can keep that if you want, for now."</p><p>Robby's a little drunk. Maybe more than a little. "That was strong," he says, staring into the bottom of his cup. </p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. "You wanna switch to water?" </p><p>Robby shakes his head. "Stop asking questions," he grits out. He doesn't want to think. He didn't come here to think, to be a person. "Can you just -" </p><p>"Swayze," Luke says. Soft, careful. "It's like that, huh." He lets a little smile curve his mouth. "Not asking, just thinking out loud."</p><p>Robby grimaces, tosses back the rest of his drink. "If you knew karate I'd spar with you right now," he says. "I'm good, you know? Like, really good."</p><p>"You showed me the video from your studio," Luke says. "When I was home in the summer. It was good. You were good." His voice is careful, measured. Each syllable clipped and precise.</p><p>"You really hate it." Robby sets the cup aside, digging his heels into the cushion on the far side of Luke's lap. He so rarely gets the upper hand on Luke. It feels kind of good. </p><p>"I don't hate it." But Luke's mouth is tight. "It makes you happy. I think that's good."</p><p>It's like a hangnail. Robby wants to push and push. He wants Luke to snap, because Robby's been on edge for a month and god, it's been so long. "Yeah? C'mon, say it." </p><p>"It didn't work out so well for you," Luke says, slow, deliberate, <em> mean</em>. That means Robby hit a sore spot. "That time I picked you up."</p><p>Robby breathes out. "Yeah," he says. "Been keeping that one?" Robby getting his ass kicked by Hawk is not a fond memory, but getting his ass rescued by Luke is the part that really stings. </p><p>"Saving it for a rainy day," Luke says, backing off. </p><p>Robby shrugs. "You've seen me worse off." He kind of hates it. Luke's not supposed to <em> hesitate </em>. He's not supposed to need to hesitate. Robby's not supposed to be able to do anything. Change the situation. He's just supposed to be here. </p><p>Luke says, "Doesn't mean it was fun to see that." He reaches over to touch Robby's cheek, just the barest brush of his fingertips. "You looked bad."</p><p>Robby wonders if Luke wants to kiss him. He wonders if he wants to kiss Luke. "I'm fine now," he says. His mouth tastes like liquor. "Not even a bruise left. You can check if you want."</p><p>"I think you'd be pissed off if I did that." Luke takes his hand away.</p><p>"Since when do you care?" Robby's blood is humming. He sits up, leaning forward onto his elbows. "It's basically a sport for you. Fucking with me."</p><p>"Christ, Robby." Luke's fraying, Robby can see it. Good. "You're such a little shit sometimes."</p><p>Robby says, "Not like him, right? You said he's nice. <em> Trip</em>. I bet he knows which fuckin' fork to use."</p><p>"Nobody gives a shit about the forks, Robby." Luke digs his thumb into the meat of Robby's shoulder, hard. </p><p>Robby doesn't flinch. Won't. He grins, instead. "And you get pissed off when I fight? Because someone else gets to hurt me, right?" </p><p>"Don't." Luke shakes his head, voice soft but heavy, sure. "Robby, you wanted me to help you. Don't blow it."</p><p>It stings, like it's supposed to. Robby's in a new city and Luke is the only person he knows. He doesn't even have clothes. It's fucking raining. It would be cold out there, in the dark. "Sorry." He swallows. "You know what I'm like when I freak out."</p><p>Luke hums, uses that hand to reel Robby in, tuck his head into Luke's chest. "Yeah, baby. I know."</p><p>Robby isn't shaking but he feels drained. He was up for a breath but now he's back where he belongs. "I fucked up," he says. "With Miguel."</p><p>Luke starts to pet his hair. Long, even strokes. "Tell me."</p><p>Robby does shiver then. "You don't like him."</p><p>"Baby, that's not your problem." If Robby was a kitten Luke would have him by the scruff of his neck and he'd be dangling. He isn't a kitten but Luke's hand is settled at the nape of his neck, holding tight. </p><p>"The guy I was fighting, that's his best friend. And I didn't tell him about it." Robby closes his eyes. "And I didn't tell him I was talking to you."</p><p>"Ah." Luke shifts Robby into his lap, and Robby lets himself be moved. "That's a dealbreaker?" </p><p>"Would it be for you?" Luke's thighs are strong and solid underneath Robby, his chest like a wall. Robby's not light but Luke treats him like he is. </p><p>"I'm not Diaz." A low, easy exhale. "I wouldn't like it, though. If I were him."</p><p>"Yeah." Robby opens his eyes, into the bright light and the relentless weight of Luke's gaze. "He's not you."</p><p>"That's a problem." Not a question. </p><p>"It's not <em> the </em> problem."</p><p>Luke's low, throaty laugh vibrates through his chest, against Robby's skin. "But it's one of them."</p><p>"I don't want to be with you," Robby says. "Not like that. It wasn't good for me. I don't think it was good for you, either."</p><p>Luke doesn't say anything, but his other hand grips Robby's hip, hard. Hard enough that maybe there'll be a bruise, but Robby won't complain and he won't flinch; he's his dad's kid, sometimes, when it counts.</p><p>"I just," Robby says, looking right at Luke, right into his handsome face, long pale eyelashes, bright, unflinching eyes. "I don't know how to be with anyone else. Because it was only you. And I keep fucking it up." </p><p>Luke takes a sharp breath. Robby feels him shake, just for a second, something rippling through him - maybe desire, maybe irritation, maybe fury, some combination - but he grits it out, stills himself with a grimace. "Robby," he says. "I shouldn't have left you like that."</p><p>Robby says, "That doesn't matter." And god, it doesn't. It hurts to think about, obviously, it hurts like having the skin peeled off him, but it's not a gaping wound. He wouldn't be who he is if Luke hadn't left him. He likes who he is, most of the time. He likes that he earned it. "I like him. Both of them. I like - who I am when I'm with them."</p><p>"You're here, though," Luke says, gently. "Because you <em> need </em> me. You can want whatever you feel like."</p><p>Robby clenches his jaw so he doesn't shake. He doesn't pull away from Luke. That's not how it goes. </p><p>"You don't like being alone," Luke murmurs. "And you don't like making your own decisions. That's why you call me. If Diaz can't do that for you, well. That's not your fault, baby. It's just how you're wired."</p><p>Robby's mouth tastes like blood; his teeth slipped, caught his cheek. "I-" </p><p>"Shh," Luke says. He kisses Robby's forehead. "It's okay. You're fine."</p><p>Robby is <em> not </em> fine. It crashes into him, heavy, like a wave. What the fuck were you thinking, Robby Keene? Why this of all places? Of all things? "It's not about that, anyway," he says, desperate all of a sudden for anything else, not this. "It's about my dad. That's why I left."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>Robby wants to jerk away, get off, leave. But it's raining outside, it's dark. Robby is barefoot. Luke would get mad. Robby doesn't want him to get mad. </p><p>"Hey," Luke says. He gentles his hands. "I got you. Keep talking."</p><p>Robby doesn't want to. He feels sick, sour. But Luke's right: the second he made the call he stopped calling the shots. "I thought things were good, with me and him. I thought they were getting better. He was - not a dad, really, but. I liked living with him. We'd hang out. He was learning to cook. He said I mattered to him."</p><p>"Big, if true." Luke doesn't say it like he wants to hurt Robby. Just an observation. </p><p>"Yeah." Robby rests his head on Luke's shoulder. He's just tired. Luke smells good, warm and spicy, like always. It's easy to sink into him, to be surrounded, swallowed up, subsumed. "We were okay. I was okay. And then - it turned out he'd been lying to me the whole time."</p><p>"Ah."</p><p>"You could pretend to be surprised."</p><p>"Watch it," Luke says, just sharp enough to sting. </p><p>Robby swallows around the lump in his throat. "Sorry." For a second there it felt like, even if he didn't have the upper hand, he wasn't drowning. Rookie shit, Keene. You never win here. </p><p>"He's your dad," Luke says. "Of course you wanted to trust him."</p><p>"I should call him," Robby says. "I - he's probably freaking out." His phone is at the bottom of his backpack. At least he could say, <em> I'm okay. </em>Maybe that would make it true, if he said it to his dad.</p><p>Luke blinks once, then again. "Shan will tell him," he says. "Sweetheart, didn't you just say he hurt you? Maybe he should sit with it for a minute. Like you've been sitting with it your whole life."</p><p>Well, that makes sense, too. Robby's dad is a fucking piece of shit, anyway. On a good day. "Yeah, you're right." </p><p>"She knows you're fine," Luke says, amends it. "She knows you're with me. She'll pass it on. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? When have I ever made you do something you didn't want to do?"</p><p>Robby thinks: <em> depends on your definition of force. </em> But he doesn't say that. Luke's hand is on his neck. "Yeah." </p><p>Luke says, "You're freaking out. I can see your little wheels turning. Like there's a hamster in there." He taps on Robby's head gently with his knuckles. "Breathe." </p><p>Robby hiccups, a little laugh. "I'm trying."</p><p>"I know." Luke shifts, wrapping his arms around Robby's waist. "Tell me what your dad did." </p><p>That feels scary. Like it's something Luke isn't supposed to know. But Kreese already knows, Robby's dad told <em> him</em>, so what else matters? Nothing. Robby puts his hands on Luke's broad shoulders, to steady himself, to keep him there. "Mr LaRusso," he begins, and then he laughs, because that fucking sums it up. </p><p>Luke says, "Hey. Focus." Eyes bright. "He did what to Danny LaRusso?" </p><p>"No, he <em> did </em> Mr LaRusso." Maybe the drink got to Robby. Maybe he's just fucking tired. "You can't tell anyone, obviously. But Mr LaRusso's not married anymore, or he's not gonna be, so - whatever. None of it matters. But it mattered to me, because I said, <em> please don't fuck this up for me </em>, and then - well. He went and did it."</p><p>"Your dad," Luke says, thoughtfully, sounding it out. "Your <em> dad </em> went and did it." He rubs his thumb over Robby's hip, thinking. "<em>It </em> being Danny LaRusso." </p><p>"Don't be a dick." </p><p>"I'm not being a dick. I'm just thinking." </p><p>"Think nicer." Robby yawns. It feels kind of nice to have said it out loud after so fucking long. "Do you think I could have had an ulcer? From stress? Because I haven't told anyone, and I was like - not really sleeping." </p><p>"I think you're too young for a stress ulcer," Luke says, smoothing Robby's hair out of his eyes. He's so gentle. That's so weird. Robby was so mad at him that he forgot how gentle Luke was, all the time, how careful. "But I think you might be ready for bed."</p><p>Robby closes his eyes. It takes a little too much effort to open them. "Do I have to brush my teeth?" </p><p>"Yeah, baby, you do." Luke laughs, gently. "I got you a toothbrush. Okay, ready?" He slides Robby backwards onto the couch and then gets to his feet. He's so fucking tall, really. "C'mon." </p><p>Robby looks at the hand he's holding out. He could just sleep here. Just pitch backwards and curl into a little ball and not move. </p><p>"<em>Robby</em>." </p><p>Okay. He's not going to do that. He takes Luke's hand, lets himself be pulled upwards, onwards. He's definitely freaking out and this is definitely not good, but things could always be worse. Luke's a lot of things but at least Robby matters to him, even if he matters in the way that an expensive watch matters. Luke's still not going to let anything touch him.</p><p>He lets Luke lead him to the bathroom; they brush their teeth next to each other, even though the sink is too small for the two of them. Luke keeps one hand on Robby the whole way and it’s fucked how safe it feels.</p><p>"This bed is so fucking big," Robby says, yawning. His mouth tastes like toothpaste. He's standing at the foot of Luke's ridiculous bed, staring at it. "How did you get it in here?" </p><p>"Lots of help," Luke says, amused. He puts his hand on the small of Robby's back, pushing lightly. "Go to sleep, Swayze." </p><p>Robby hesitates. "I-" </p><p>Luke turns out the overhead light. It's dark, only the barest moonlight leaking through the edges of the blinds. It takes Robby's eyes a second to adjust. "I said, to <em> sleep</em>. When have I ever wanted to have sex with someone who was less than enthusiastic? C'mon."</p><p>"Because of your huge ego." </p><p>"That's not the only huge thing," Luke says, but they're both laughing. "Walked into that one."</p><p>"Not this time," Robby says. But he feels better, maybe. "You get in first."</p><p>Luke kisses his hair. "Okay." He's a dim shape in the darkness, settling into the outside of the bed, pulling the covers down for Robby, pulling his own shirt over his head, tossing it over to the desk.</p><p>Abruptly Robby remembers the way Miguel made room for him, in his tiny bed, that first night, when nothing meant anything yet. Miguel had barely even <em> liked </em> Robby, and still he'd made space for him, because Robby needed it. "Do you even like me?" </p><p>"What?" Luke sits up. "Robby, you're <em> here</em>. You called me six hours ago and I came to get you. Does that answer the question?" </p><p>Robby says, "Stupid question. Sorry."</p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. He holds his arm out for Robby. "C'mere." </p><p>"Okay," Robby says. He kneels onto the mattress, knee-walking up the bed until he can look down at Luke. "Okay."</p><p>Luke smirks at him, pale chest, pale face, bright, burning eyes. "Swayze. Stop thinking."</p><p>"Okay," Robby says, again. He lets Luke reach up for him, curl his hand around the back of Robby's neck and pull him down, his head against Luke's shoulder, his chest against Luke's chest. It feels like any night, but especially like the early ones, when everything was new and Luke held him like this every time and didn't complain that Robby kicked. "I'm so tired."</p><p>"So go to sleep," Luke says, the laugh there underpinning the syllables. His thigh hooks itself over Robby's hip, not grinding, just pinning. Keeping Robby there. "I'm right here." </p><p>Robby sighs, a long, long, sound. "I missed you."</p><p>Luke hums. "I know. Me too."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>They were six months in when Robby realized Luke was fucking other people. In retrospect, anyone with a brain would have seen it from the get-go, but Robby was fourteen, so he didn't strictly have a brain at the time. More like a complex system of hormones, not to mention all the trust issues. </p><p>Luke was fun and he liked Robby, and he had a whole world that Robby liked being let into. He never worried about money, he just paid for things. For Robby. That was nice, too. Robby would come home dressed differently with sick new sneakers and his mom would say, oh, honey, you look so handsome. So Robby liked that, too. </p><p>And god, he liked fucking Luke. It was all new but it was electric. It was <em> fun</em>. Luke made it fun. He made it seem like Robby was so important, so magical, the best Luke had ever had. Luke was definitely the best Robby had ever had. Because he was the only person Robby had ever slept with, but Robby didn't think he'd ever want to sleep with anyone else. He wouldn't have to, because it was so, so good. </p><p>Robby's mom was in Malibu with her boyfriend Mitch. Robby didn't like Mitch but he didn't not like Mitch either, which made him head and shoulders above the one before Mitch, Shane. So when Robby's mom asked if it would be okay to leave Robby on his own for a week he said, "It's fine, I'll just stay with Luke," and Luke smiled his big dimple smile at Robby's mom and said, "I'll take good care of him, don't worry, Shan."</p><p>Robby honestly wasn't sure what his mom thought of Luke. She liked him, obviously. Everyone liked Luke, especially when he made an effort, and he really had made an effort with Robby's mom. Robby's mom liked that he drove Robby to school, that he took Robby fun places on the weekend, that he helped Robby with his homework. But he hadn't told her what they were to each other, and she hadn't asked. Maybe she just thought they were friends. Like, really good friends. She still asked Luke if he was seeing any pretty girls and Luke still laughed and said<em> aw, Shan, gentlemen don't kiss and tell</em>. </p><p>Anyway, Robby was officially staying with Luke, which was different from normal in that he didn't have to text his mom to tell her he wasn't coming home. It felt different, better, like it was official or something. Not that it was different, really. All his clothes were in Luke's closet, his toothbrush in Luke's bathroom, his English homework in a pile on the edge of Luke's desk. Still: it was cool. </p><p>The nearest skate park wasn't close but it wasn't far, either. Luke had a ton of homework, he'd said, implying that Robby should also do some homework instead of sulking at the back of the class. Robby had rolled his eyes - but like, happily, because it was nice that Luke cared enough to bring it up - and fucked off to skate instead. </p><p>He ran into some guys he knew there, shot the shit a little, helped them shoot some video. The sun was coming down, enough that Robby considered texting Luke for a ride. </p><p>But it had been Robby's idea to go out, so he would get himself home. That was cool, too, it always was: he tapped in the code for the gate and just walked in. Not like at his apartment, where things always broke and there was a dead rat semi-permanently floating in the fountain. </p><p>"Hey," he called, swinging his board over his back. "It's me."</p><p>Luke came out of the bedroom, shirtless. "Hey, baby," he said, padding along the hallway to kiss Robby, long and sweet. He pulled back with his hand cupped around Robby's cheek. "Did you have fun?" </p><p>"Yeah," Robby said. "How's the homework?"</p><p>Luke scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Oh, I got distracted."</p><p>That was when the guy came out of the bedroom. Robby didn't know him but had maybe seen him around before, once or twice; enough to know the face but not the name. He was a little taller than Robby, maybe a year older. His shirt was buttoned wrong and he looked embarrassed. "Uh," he said, "I'm gonna go."</p><p>"Okay," Luke said, smooth as silk, that same easy grin spreading across his face. "I had fun, thanks for coming over."</p><p>"Yeah, me too." The guy looked at Luke and then at Robby, and then he ducked past Robby and went down the hall, away. </p><p>It took a second for it to hit, for Robby's brain to put two and two together. Then it settled, like ice, in his belly. "Luke?" </p><p>Luke tilted his head, caught Robby's elbow and steered him down the hall to the big empty living room with the huge soft couches, where he eased Robby's board out of his hand and put it down on the carpet, where it wasn't supposed to go, because the carpet was white, but Luke didn't seem to care, he just pulled Robby gently down into his lap and said, "Hey, you were busy. You know I love you best." </p><p>He sounded so <em> sure. </em> Like it was nothing to worry about. And Luke sounded like that a lot of the time, because there were a lot of things Robby didn't understand, and he was always right. Like when Robby had gotten sick and Luke had just brought him antibiotics and said, <em> it's normal, don't freak out, </em> and three days later it was fine.</p><p>"You do?" Robby asked. That was the important part, anyway. Nothing else mattered, he knew that already. </p><p>"Oh, baby," Luke said. "I love you so much." </p><p>"Okay," Robby said. "Me too." He tipped his face up and let Luke kiss him. </p><p>They went to a party the next night. Robby didn't know what he was supposed to do, how he was supposed to act. But Luke was acting like nothing was different, so maybe it wasn't. Luke was friendly, funny, a flirt. Robby had known all these things from the beginning. He had liked all these things about him. </p><p>Luke stuck close to him all night; not weird, sometimes he did that. But this time he did it <em> while </em> he flirted, squeezing Robby's hip gently so Robby would get in on it too. </p><p>This guy was tall, like Luke. They knew each other from some rich kid thing, like a camp or a gala, Robby wasn't really paying attention, because the guy was looking at his mouth, not even being subtle about it. Maybe Robby was flattered by it. The guy was like, handsome. He had a great face.</p><p>Luke leaned in, so his breath came hot against the shell of Robby's ear. "I think you should kiss him, Swayze."</p><p>So Robby did. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Luke's gone when Robby wakes up, but there's a guy in the kitchenette, making coffee. He's tall like Luke, with sandy hair and freckles, wearing a Stanford tee and basketball shorts. "Hey," he says, smiling widely. "You must be Robby, I'm Scott."</p><p>"Hi," Robby says, smiling back. "Nice to meet you."</p><p>"Coffee?" Scott asks. "I know I need it."</p><p>"Yeah, please. What time is it?" </p><p>"Elevenish. Malone'll be back soon, the building's close."</p><p>"I didn't hear you come in." Robby perches on the back of the couch so he can watch Scott pour hot water over coffee grounds. "Late night?" </p><p>Scott laughs. He has dark eyes, friendly and big. "You could say that. You thinking about going Greek?" </p><p>Robby shrugs. "Can't say I've ever thought too much about it."</p><p>Scott says, "That's refreshing." He turns to pull out mugs from the cupboard, threading his fingers through two handles and picking up the press with the other hand. "You want milk? I think we might have some in here. Somewhere."</p><p>"I'm okay, thanks."</p><p>"Luke got to you too, huh? You'd think a cow personally stepped on his balls." Scott puts the mugs and the press down on the table in front of Robby, sits down in the armchair next to him. </p><p>Robby laughs, sliding backwards onto the couch and turning so he can face Scott. "Yeah, what did cheese ever do to him?" </p><p>Robby liked Luke's friends, mostly. Sure, the Hills ones all stopped talking to him when he got dumped, but they hadn't done it out of malice. Robby simply had no longer had anything in common with them. He did get to keep Trey and Cruz, but that had been doing Luke a favour, now that he thought about it. </p><p>The point is: they're nice people, usually. Easy enough to talk to, especially when Robby talks about shit like Luke taught him. </p><p>Scott's no different. He's chill and handsome, flirts a little in a straight guy way. The coffee's good and he likes to talk about that, too. </p><p>It's fun to do what Luke taught Robby - just make someone else happy by listening to the things they like to talk about, the things they're proud of. </p><p>"So how long have you known Luke?" Scott asks. "High school, right? What was he like then? Same old control freak overachiever?" He says it warmly, which is how Robby used to say it, too. </p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. He thinks about it: who was Luke outside of Robby? So much. Robby remembers those years in terms of Luke but Luke himself - well, he had shit going on. Not just a spiky little boyfriend from the wrong side of the tracks. "Like, fifteen extracurriculars. He barely slept."</p><p>"That sounds like Luke," Scott says. "It's cool that you're here to see him, maybe you can get him to chill out a little bit."</p><p>Robby laughs. "Yeah, I don't know about that. But I'll do my best."</p><p>That's when Luke comes in through the front door, wearing slacks and a polo. His hair is perfect, combed-back and neat. </p><p>"Morning, sleepyhead," Luke says. He comes over to the couch. "You need anything, Davis? We're going to the mall." </p><p>"Oh, we are?" Robby stretches his legs out in front of him. He tilts his head and looks at Luke. He has to crane his neck. </p><p>"Yeah," Luke says, resting his hand on Robby's shoulder. "You have nothing to wear." </p><p>"I think I look great," Robby says, gesturing at the borrowed sweatshirt and sweatpants he's still wearing. "This is like, next season. Runway shit." </p><p>"Real cute," Luke says. "I can't take you to a party dressed like this."</p><p>"What, will I embarrass you in front of your boyfriend?" Robby grins, rolls the name around in his mouth. "Trip, short for Triple."</p><p>Scott takes a long drink from his mug. "Trip's picky," he says. "He likes when you make an effort. His mom throws really expensive parties."</p><p>"This won't be one of those," Luke says, reassuring. "Just a party."</p><p>Robby narrows his eyes at them, keeps his voice light. "I’ll hold you to it."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." Luke curls his hand around the back of Robby's neck. "I'll find you some jeans or something, c'mon."</p><p>"See you later," Robby says to Scott. "Thanks for the coffee."</p><p>"Anytime," Scott says, sketching him a little salute as Luke herds him in and shuts the door behind them.</p><p>Robby has to cuff Luke's jeans like, four times. He doesn't know why he couldn't just wear his own, which he wore on the plane, but Luke didn't hand them over and it doesn't seem worth it to pick a fight. </p><p>"Have you seen my phone?" Robby asks, kneeling on the floor to dig around in his backpack. "I was looking for it this morning."</p><p>Luke leans against the foot of the bed, looking fresh and well rested. "Yeah, I took it."</p><p>"You what?" Robby drops the bag, rocks back onto his heels. "Luke, what the fuck?" </p><p>"You can have it whenever you want," Luke says, smoothly, like it's fucking normal. "I just didn't want you to do something you'd regret, especially while I was in class. Your phone’s locked, I didn't do anything to it."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. </p><p>Luke crosses the floor and stoops, taking Robby's chin in his hand, tilting Robby's head backwards so he's meeting Luke's eyes. The angle is too steep. It hurts. "Remember how you got here? You make bad choices when you're freaking out. You're lucky I'm here to save you from yourself." That's sharper than he's been with Robby the whole time Robby's been here. That doesn't make it not true, though. </p><p>It's hard to swallow but Robby manages. "Luke-"</p><p>Luke lets go, so hard Robby's chin snaps forward. "Do you want it now?" </p><p>Robby rolls his neck side to side, reaches up to skim his fingers along it. "Fuck. No. It's fine. I was just asking."</p><p>Luke runs his fingers through Robby's hair, tender this time. Not an apology, but maybe an acknowledgement. "I said we'd get brunch with Trip. Do you want me to cancel?" </p><p><em> Yes. </em>It shows on Robby's face, it must. The last thing he wants is to spend time, sober, with Luke's new boyfriend. But he grits his teeth. "No, it's okay. I'd love a waffle."</p><p>Luke smiles, that luminous bright smile. Makes you feel like you've got the spotlight on you, like you deserve it. "That's my guy."</p><p>Robby gets to his feet. "Yeah," he says. "That's me."</p><p>Robby spends the ten minute walk to the cafe telling himself he doesn't hate anyone, because hate is a useless and destabilising emotion. He takes one look at Trip's stupid face and it is out the window, game over. Robby hopes Trip dies.</p><p>He plasters a smile across his face. "Hi," he says. "Great to see you again."</p><p>It's a nice little place, flowers on the tables and huge plates streaming past them. Trip's sitting by the window at a table set for three, reading again. He puts the book down and gets up, pressing a kiss to Luke's mouth and catching Robby in a half-hug. "Glad you could make it." </p><p>It's weird, sitting down on the other side of the table. Robby doesn't love seeing Luke and Trip next to each other, knowing their thighs are pressed together under the table, knees knocking. He hates the way Luke's arm stretches out along the back of Trip's chair, the way they lean into each other.</p><p>But Robby doesn't want that. Even if he could have it back he knows he doesn't. "Smells good," he observes. "Do you think the waffles are good? I asked Luke, but I don't remember if he eats carbs right now."</p><p>Trip laughs. "He's got you, babe." </p><p>"I'm intermittent fasting, thanks for asking," Luke says, but he grins. "Carbs but only for four hours a day." </p><p>"Jesus," Robby says, good natured. "Better you than me."</p><p>"Beauty is pain," Trip quips. "Glad you're the hot one, babe."</p><p>"Nah, just doing my best to keep up with you." They kiss. </p><p>Robby gets the waffles and Trip an eggs benedict. Luke gets a smoothie and something with egg whites that he promises is good. Robby's dad would die before he'd eat an egg white. Sometimes Robby is like, it's fucked that your big ex boyfriend looks like your dad, and other times he is like, there are other things to worry about, in the world.</p><p>It's fucking weird looking at Luke with someone else. It's not that Robby's never seen it, it's not like he doesn't know that Luke has game or whatever - it's just different to see him, amicable, with someone else. Letting someone else take the lead.</p><p>"So," Trip says. "Luke wasn't exactly clear on how long you're planning to stay."</p><p>"As long as Robby wants," Luke says. He sips his bright green drink. Robby can't see his other hand so it's probably on Trip's thigh. </p><p>Robby cuts a corner of waffle. "It was kind of a last minute trip," he says. It's a good waffle. Perfectly crispy on the edges. If he was dating Luke he would shove a little bit of it into his mouth and then Luke would say, <em> thanks for ruining my diet, baby</em>. </p><p>"Well, it's nice you can come out for your birthday." Trip smiles. "I know Luke's happy to see you." </p><p>Robby says, "My birthday?" </p><p>Heavy pressure on his foot. That's Luke. </p><p>"Oh, yeah," Robby says. "My birthday." </p><p>Luke says, "Robby's weird about birthdays. Don't worry about it." </p><p>Trip says, "Oh, I get it. Sometimes you just don't even want a party, right?" </p><p>Robby is going to melt into the ocean. He plasters the smile back on, darting a little look in Luke's direction, which he knows Luke will have caught. "Yeah. It's just a weird time."</p><p>Luke reaches for a home fry on Trip's plate. "Yeah," he says. "Robby, why don't you tell Trip about your karate school? It's neat, they run it out of a house." </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. "It's really beautiful, but we had to sand everything."</p><p>"God," Trip says. "I'm sure it's good for you, but I would definitely hire someone for that." </p><p>The food is good. The time passes, eventually. Trip has a class on the hour so he has to go, and Luke kisses his cheek and thanks him for coming, waves for the bill. </p><p>"Oh, I got it," Trip says, putting his card down. "I promised Robby a drink, remember?"</p><p>"Thanks, babe," Luke says. Something flashes across his face; Robby wouldn't notice it except that it's Luke and he notices everything about Luke. Call it self preservation or call it love. </p><p>Robby settles back into his seat. "Thanks, Trip." </p><p>"Anytime, Robby." </p><p>They walk back to Luke’s dorm in silence. Robby's trying to not trip over his stupid fucking jeans, and Luke keeps looking at him, eyes burning a hole in Robby's neck. The mall isn’t far, so they just have to turn here and keep going.</p><p>"You should be nicer to him," Luke says. "He's trying." He's got a tone in his voice that Robby recognizes. Like he used to get when Robby would push him just too far and then Luke would get sick of it and snap. He never hit Robby or anything, that wasn't his style and he wasn't interested in it, and maybe Robby would have left him if he had. But sometimes he'd stop talking to Robby for a while, and he'd start talking to someone else where Robby couldn't miss it. He knew what it did to Robby, how it made him sick and scared inside, because Robby broke every time and cried, saying sorry, telling Luke Robby would be better, while Luke held him and promised it would be okay. </p><p>Robby says, "You're punishing me for leaving you. Which is stupid. Because you broke up with me."</p><p>Luke doesn't look at him. His jaw clenches so minutely Robby wouldn't notice, if he were someone else. "I didn't break up with you."</p><p>"You can't be serious." Robby skids to a stop, turning to look at Luke.</p><p>Luke rakes his fingers through his hair and doesn’t stop walking. "Chill out, Robby."</p><p>"You have a boyfriend!" Robby wants to bury his face in his hands, but he's fucking pushing it already, it's better not to look away. He has to start walking again because Luke is getting too far away. "You have a fucking boyfriend." </p><p>"Don't swear at me," Luke snaps. </p><p>Robby almost rolls his eyes, holds it back just barely. "What did you tell him about me? It can't have been the truth."</p><p>"Not everyone is jealous, Robby. Some of us can accept that the people we love have other relationships that matter to them."</p><p>Robby has to laugh. It comes out caustic, bitter. "Of course." He drags his hand across his mouth. "Who does he think I am? An underprivileged youth? Does he think you did<em> Big Brother</em> in high school and we picked up trash together?" </p><p>"No," Luke says. "Hey, come on. I just told him you needed a friend. And you didn't have anyone else. That's not a lie, is it?" </p><p>It <em> is</em>. Robby wants to protest, to say something, anything. But he is here. He is walking to wherever this is with Luke, and he came all the way out here to be with Luke. </p><p>Luke's phone rings. Robby looks at Luke and Luke stops, frowns at the screen, puts it on speaker. </p><p>"Hi, Luke. Can I talk to Robby?" Robby's mom's voice is soft, careful. He's so happy to hear her, God. He loves her so much. </p><p>"Shan? Hey." Luke's voice switches, just like that. He's charming, funny, friendly Luke again. </p><p>"Hi, Mom." For a second, just one, Robby thinks about saying - <em> please help me, I'm stuck, I don't know what to do</em>. But only a second. It's his mom. She's in rehab. She doesn't need this. "How are you doing?"</p><p>"I'm okay, baby." She pauses. "Your dad said he's been trying to call you. I said your phone was probably dead, you might not have a charger."</p><p>Robby looks at Luke. Luke quirks the corner of his mouth, shrugs. "Yeah," he says. "Just been busy. Do you - you can tell him I'm fine, if he calls again."</p><p>She sounds worried. "You don't want to call him? Robby, did he do something? <em> Fuck</em>. I shouldn't have left you with him. I knew it was a bad idea."</p><p>"Shan, it's okay." Luke cuts in, easy, smooth. "Robby's fine, I've got him. You know I'm good for it."</p><p>She laughs, but it's tight. "Yeah. You're a good friend." Then, delicately, "Baby, how long are you planning to stay out there? You have school."</p><p>"It might be a while," Luke says. "We're just figuring everything out."</p><p>Robby's stomach turns over. <em> What the fuck are you doing here, Keene?  </em></p><p>"Okay," Robby's mom says. "Be careful, okay? I know Luke will take good care of you, but just call me if there's anything I can do, anything you need." </p><p>Robby looks at Luke and Luke raises an eyebrow at Robby. He doesn't need to say it out loud for Robby to hear it: <em> you don't want to upset her, do you? </em> Robby doesn't. He really doesn't. "I promise," he says. "I love you, Mom."</p><p>"Oh, baby," she says. "I love you so, so much, okay? So much."</p><p>"I know," Robby says, choking up. "Everything's okay. It's fine. Luke's great."</p><p>"I know," Robby's mom says. "If there's anything you want to tell me, when you're done picking up this mess of your dad's - you know I love you more than anything."</p><p>Robby's chest hurts. "Okay."</p><p>"Thanks, Luke," Robby's mom says. "I wouldn't trust anyone else, but I know you'll look after him." </p><p>"I will." Luke reaches across the sidewalk to circle his fingers around Robby's wrist, holding on. "Robby's a great kid."</p><p>Robby doesn't pull away. He shouldn't, because it will piss Luke off and he doesn't want to do that, but even more, he doesn't want to. Everything's fucked, anyway. "Don't worry about Dad," he says. "He's just - you know how he is." </p><p>"Okay," Robby's mom says. "Well - you'll call me the second anything changes, right?"</p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. "We should go, Shan. But call anytime."</p><p>"I will." </p><p>"Love you," Robby says, again. </p><p>And then it's just the two of them standing on the sidewalk, Robby wrapped in Luke's clothes, smelling like him. "What are we <em> figuring out</em>, Luke? Do you - is there a plan here?" </p><p>Luke rocks back onto his heels, doesn't look at Robby. "Can't I just miss you? Don't you miss me? Things were good, Robby. We were happy." He looks - Christ. He looks like he means it. </p><p>"You don't miss me," Robby says. "You miss who you were when you were with me. Before all the bullshit started catching up to you." He knows what Luke sounds like when he's unhappy. He knows what <em> kind </em> of unhappy Luke gets, the way overachieving chews at the edges of him, all that pressure his dad put on him that he fucking hates but will never buckle under. </p><p>Luke swallows. "I didn't break up with you, Robby. You have to know that."</p><p>"I called you every day for two weeks," Robby says. "Do you know what that felt like? Because it felt like shit, Luke."</p><p>"I didn't know how to miss you," Luke says. "I was freaking out, too. I couldn't take care of myself and take care of you at the same time. And it was fucked up that I didn't say that to you. But I didn't mean to hurt you and I definitely didn't mean to break up with you." </p><p>Robby's heart pounds in his ears. A year ago, when he was crying on his mom's couch, he'd have given anything to hear that. To have a reason for Luke to have done what he did. </p><p>"I don't have a plan," Luke continues. "But, yeah, I have been thinking about you. Is that so bad?" </p><p><em> Yes. </em>Robby digs his nails into his palms, a bright burst of sensation lancing across them. "It is when you don't tell me. When you start making decisions about me without telling me."</p><p>"Baby," Luke says. "That's why you like me."</p><p>Robby lets disgust crawl across his face. "Fuck you." </p><p>The air around them shifts, seismic, electric. Robby knows it's too far the second he says it, when Luke freezes, goes still. </p><p>"Are you going somewhere?" Luke reaches across Robby with that long, muscled arm, but not to hold him there, to gesture into the road, into the distance. A whole town where Robby’s never been, where he knows nobody. "Be my guest."</p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. His heart hammers. Okay, Keene, damage control. He steps forward, into the shadow of Luke’s body. "No, I'm not going anywhere. You're right. I don't have anywhere to go."</p><p>"Nice," Luke says, scornful. But he lets his hand fall onto Robby’s shoulder, holding him still. "Fuck. Sorry, I shouldn't have - that was a shitty thing to do."</p><p>Robby doesn't know what to say to that. It feels like a trap. "I don't want to leave."</p><p>"Good," Luke says. He softens his voice. "I don't want you to leave. I'm glad you're here."</p><p>Robby swallows. He doesn't know what to do but he knows what he doesn't want to do, which is blow everything the fuck up. You know how to keep things going, Robby. Just keep going. Figure it out when you can. Fuck. </p><p>"I want to call Sam," Robby says. "Is that - okay?" Just enough edge to make his point, just conciliatory enough that Luke knows Robby knows who he’s with.</p><p>"I'm not your keeper," Luke says. "You can do whatever you want. I just didn't want you to be alone when you did it." He digs into his jacket pocket and hands Robby's phone over. </p><p>Battery's at 10%. That fucking figures. A ton of new messages, not a few missed calls. Robby skims through them, conscious of Luke's hand still on his shoulder, his thumb digging into the meat of it. Nothing from Miguel, only one from Tory, and that's from yesterday morning. Just says <em> what the hell, Keene. </em> </p><p>"You said you were making a phone call," Luke observes. So much for remorse.</p><p>"Yeah, okay," Robby says. It sucks, obviously, it's fucking weird and it's bad news. But it's also kind of - well. Nobody else cares about Robby like this. This much, overwhelmingly, enough to just - it makes Robby feel like he matters, it makes Robby feel like he belongs somewhere, even if that somewhere is <em> wherever Luke wants </em>. </p><p>He hits call. Her phone rings once, then again.</p><p>Then - "Robby?" God, he missed the sound of her voice. "Robby, where the hell are you? I've been calling. Did you know about my dad and your dad?"</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>spoilers: we're gonna be luke-heavy for this and the next two chapters; there's no non-con but there will be references to prior dubcon and i would consider the dynamic to be abusive even if robby, the narrator, wouldn't put it in those words. if there's anything you're particularly concerned about and would like spoilers for, don't hesitate to ask!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Of course Robby told Luke. He didn't think Luke would care; people told Luke to dump Robby all the time. That was why Luke had to put so much work into Robby, into making sure Robby could hang with his friends, not fuck up with the wrong fork or whatever. Robby always laughed when Luke told him that stuff, so he figured Luke would, too.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: dub-con (in flashback), manipulation, extremely unhealthy emotional entanglement, drugs/alcohol, references to alcoholism</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Robby shrugs Luke’s hand off, stepping from the sidewalk onto the stretch of lawn beside them. "Don't fuck off," he tells Luke. His feet sink into the grass, making a sound with every step.</p><p>Luke raises an eyebrow at him. "Yeah?" He looks like he doesn't really know what's going on, either. It's always gratifying when Robby isn't alone like that.</p><p>Robby bites the inside of his mouth. "Yeah."</p><p>"Who are you talking to?" Sam asks. "Is it Miguel? Where are you?"</p><p>Robby doesn't want to do the whole fucking thing. He doesn’t like how Luke’s looking at him - thoughtful and kind of predatory. He goes into the shelter of the nearest building, so he can lean against the wall a corner away from Luke’s vision. "What did you say about our dads?"</p><p>"Did you -" Her voice is sharp. It cuts like a knife. "Robby, did you know?"</p><p>Robby is going to get a fucking headache. He can feel it throbbing behind his right eye. "Sam, what about our dads?"</p><p>"Your dad fucking my dad! You said your dad had a girlfriend!" </p><p>Shit. </p><p>Robby pinches the bridge of his nose. "Sam-" </p><p>"You knew," she says, shock giving way to fury, crescendoing onwards and up. "Robby, you <em> fucking </em> knew."</p><p>"My dad had a boyfriend," Robby said. "Not your dad. Wait, are they - is that happening? Really?" </p><p>From the sidewalk, Luke yells, "Get back here, Robby!" </p><p>"I can't <em> believe you," </em>Sam hisses, and then she hangs up. </p><p>Robby stares at his phone. It's yelling at him that it needs to charge, which, thanks, Robby does too. Fuck. </p><p>"I'm coming!" Robby yells. "Jesus, I'm coming."</p><p>Luke’s crossed his arms over his chest. He’s tapping one foot and he kind of looks like someone’s annoying dad, which is a thought that would make Robby laugh if he was in a laughing mood.</p><p>Robby has to remind himself <em> you know how to breathe </em> because he does, he does. He doesn't need to freak out right now. He can't. </p><p>Luke looks over at him, doesn't say anything, just starts walking again.</p><p>"Do you want it back?" Robby asks, offering Luke his phone. It's math: it's about to die, he needs Luke back on side. He wants the first Luke back, the gentle careful one. Not this one, the one Robby's pushed to a knife edge. </p><p>Luke shakes his head. "It's fine."</p><p>"I need to get a charger. I didn't think." </p><p>"Whatever you need." That's remorse, maybe. He sounds tentative. "Is Sam okay?" </p><p>Robby sighs. Lets himself duck back into Luke’s side, into his wake. He can tell Luke things, maybe. He can tell Luke that he's scared. That's something it's okay if Luke knows. "I don't know. She hung up on me."</p><p>"Shit." He looks over, concern written across those handsome features.</p><p>Robby has to laugh. "You don't know her."</p><p>"I know you, baby." The pet name lands differently, makes Robby want to wince. Like he was sleepwalking before but now he's awake. Fuck, it sucks. He'd love to go back to sleep. "I taught her math, remember?" </p><p>"I was trying not to." He can't stop thinking about Sam, about the way she looks when she's upset. The way she looks when he's let her down. He should have told her. What's the point in keeping secrets for his dad? Robby's dad has never deserved his loyalty. </p><p>"Hey." Luke's voice is careful, sweet. Like nothing's happened, like it's just the two of them like it always was. "It's okay. She loves you."</p><p>"She'd be better off without me."</p><p>Luke looks worried, maybe? Weird expression to see on his face. "Hey," he says. "She's your friend. She'll get over it." </p><p>"You think?" Why is Robby even asking him? It's not like Luke has good opinions about anything. </p><p>"Yeah, I do. You're a good friend." He pauses. "Is it about her dad?" </p><p>"Good guess," Robby says. He's always been an open book to Luke. "He saved me, you know. Mr LaRusso. I was a real mess after you left."</p><p>Luke makes a soft sound, low in his throat. </p><p>"Not - it's over. You didn't know." Because Luke hadn't picked up the fucking phone to know, but hey. Apples and oranges. </p><p>"Still." Luke looks over his shoulder and leads them towards a big structure. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Robby thinks: I'm not. And he isn't. Look at that, Mr LaRusso. One of the things got through. "He didn't even know he was saving me. I think that's what made it okay, you know? He just - wanted a student, and I was there. And it worked out. If he'd wanted to fix me I wouldn't have trusted him."</p><p>Luke flinches. Doesn't say anything. </p><p>"Without karate I'd probably be in jail right now. I know it's not a big deal to you but it would have - I'd be fucked."</p><p>Luke's jaw clenches. "If you called -" </p><p>"Maybe," Robby says. He shakes his head. He doesn't want to explain to Luke in small words, with pictures, that Robby can no longer assume that Luke will always save him. "I'm just saying. The LaRussos have been good to me. All of them."</p><p>"Okay," Luke says. "So, it matters if Sam's mad at you. If you let her down."</p><p>All malls look the same, even these fancy ones. Robby follows in Luke’s footsteps, one after the next.</p><p>"Her dad moved out," Robby says. "She was freaked out about that. I was, too."</p><p>Luke nods. "That's not a LaRusso thing to do." </p><p>"Yeah. I guess maybe I should have told her that I saw our dads together. But they weren't supposed to be together anymore. It wasn't supposed to have anything to do with my dad. I really didn't want to make it worse."</p><p>"So you picked her dad over her," Luke says. He whistles, under his breath. "Daddy issues Keene, strikes again."</p><p>"Fuck you, man," Robby says, but without venom. Maybe Luke's right. "I trusted him." </p><p>"Ah," Luke says. </p><p>"I'm sure there's like, a reason for it. I'm not there, I don't know. I don't know why my dad would have said anything to anything. Or her dad."</p><p>"Maybe someone else caught them," Luke says. </p><p>Robby swallows. "I don't want to talk about it anymore," he says. "You can buy me clothes now."</p><p>"You're welcome," Luke says, snottily. But he reaches over and cups Robby's cheek in his hand, tender, gentle. It's like everything before that falls away. "Hey. It's gonna be okay."</p><p>Robby feels himself sway against that familiar hand, feels his heart start to settle back down. "Nobody knows me like you."</p><p>"You too, kid." He's leaning over, pressing his lips to Robby's forehead again. "When you wanna make the call I'll be right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."</p><p><em> Neither are you, </em> Robby fills in.</p><p>It's a big mall but, like Robby said, they're all the same. Luke makes a beeline for Neiman, his hand settled at the small of Robby's back to carry him along. He loves this Pretty Woman shit. </p><p>Robby doesn't have any good reason to bristle, so he doesn't. It doesn't feel bad, is the thing. It feels like it should feel bad but it doesn't. Maybe after he'll feel sick, like, hungover. Maybe. </p><p>Luke drops him off in the changing room, says, "Stay here."</p><p>Robby wishes he could charge his fucking phone. He used to like shopping with Luke, imagining who he'd be in new clothes. Tease Luke by holding up the ugliest things so Luke would crinkle his forehead and say, <em> baby, what? </em> Now - </p><p>Now he's waiting, like a pet. Fine. </p><p>There are so many missed calls from Robby's dad. He can't even begin to know what he'd say. He still feels, god, so fucking angry just beginning to think about it. <em> What the fuck did you do? </em> God. </p><p>There is one text from Demetri. It's about the fucking Spanish project. Shit. Luke's Spanish is okay. Robby doesn't want to ask Luke for help with his fucking homework. He doesn't want to ask Luke for help with anything. <em> Little late for that, Keene. </em></p><p>Luke comes back with an armful that Robby can tell, from a distance, is expensive. "Gotcha." </p><p>Against his better judgement Robby feels - well. It's nice that someone wants to take care of him. It <em> is. </em> If he thinks about it like this it won't make him feel sick and he needs to not feel sick, because there <em> isn't anywhere else to go. </em> And he missed Luke. He did. </p><p>"I guessed you were the same size," Luke says. "I know you put on muscle, but-"</p><p>"Yeah, same size." Robby takes the stack of folded fabric and steps backwards. There's room for Luke to come in here if he wants, but Robby doesn't, so he shuts the door with a firm click. </p><p>"Okay, fine," Luke says, raising his voice a little louder. "I'll just sit out here."</p><p>"Yeah, sounds good," Robby says. He puts the stack of clothing down on the little chair, stares at his own reflection in the mirror. God, he does not look great. He looks like a kid in borrowed clothing. He smells like Luke's cologne. He used to kind of like that. Even now it settles him down, makes him feel soothed. But the kind of chemical, artificial calm that comes with a bitter aftertaste. Like anaesthetic. </p><p>He rakes his fingers through his hair. "Hey, are you still doing Spanish?"</p><p>"No," Luke says, voice muffled through the door, "but I'm still fluent, if that's what you're asking. What's up?" </p><p>"I have a group project," Robby says. He laughs a little to himself. God. "It's due next week." </p><p>Luke says, "This brings me back."</p><p>Robby says, "I don't think I ever did homework when we were together. Like, maybe once." He shakes out the first shirt - long-sleeved, dark green. It'll make his eyes pop, that's what Luke would say if he was in here. </p><p>"At least twice," Luke says. "That thing on Catcher in the Rye."</p><p>"Oh, god. That sucked." Robby laughs despite himself, pulling his borrowed polo over his head to try on the new one. It feels soft, like a cloud. "You were so mad at me because I waited until the night before it was due, and then you made us skip that party."</p><p>"You were going to fail," Luke says, warmth rippling through his voice. "I wasn't gonna let you fail for a party that would be exactly the same next week." </p><p>"Yeah, but then you had to stay up the whole night and keep feeding me coffee." Robby grins, fishing through the stack for the slacks he knows Luke picked out to match. Left to his own devices Luke will dress himself and Robby like business-casual country club frat-boy assholes; not exactly Robby's style but comfortable enough after all that time. "<em> And </em>you had to fix my grammar."</p><p>"It's not my fault nobody ever taught you tenses," Luke says. "Hey, show me." </p><p>Robby rolls his eyes, because Luke can't see him. "Control freak," he says, but he unlatches the door so Luke can muscle his way in.</p><p>"Yeah?" Luke asks. Smug as shit, obviously, dragging his eyes along Robby's body with that same expression that used to settle hotly in Robby's bones, prickle under his skin. "Still got it." </p><p>"Whatever," Robby says. "You know the first one doesn't mean shit."</p><p>Luke laughs, displaces the pile of clothing and settles into the chair, like he owns it. Like he owns everything. "All right," he says, drawing a little <em> go on </em> with his finger in the air. </p><p>Robby looks at them in the mirror. Luke looks handsome as ever, face tilted up towards Robby; looking at Robby like he matters. Like Robby's worth looking at. Robby is smiling and he looks like a different person, like the boy Luke always had on his arm. Fuck. </p><p>"Let me send one text," Robby tells Luke, doesn't wait for an answer, just picks up his phone and leans against the wall, to hide the screen from view. "And then we can go back to this 80s movie montage."</p><p>Luke hums. "Whatever you want." </p><p>Robby types out: <em> I'm sorry. I love you </em>. He hits send. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Last summer Robby and Luke almost got back together. It was pretty close. Now Robby's met Trip so it's a little different, but back then he didn't know Trip existed so it wasn't an issue. </p><p>Luke had come home from a year at school and Robby was fresh off a year of karate and living in a real house with parents in it. So they were both off their game. </p><p>They only fucked like, twice. Maybe three times. Maybe Robby wasn't counting. Who cares? If you could fix a relationship with fucking Robby and Luke would have such a successful advice channel on YouTube. Luke is the best sex Robby's ever had and yeah, maybe he is scared nobody else will live up to that. </p><p>The point is, last summer Robby got the sense slammed out of him so he should know better than to lose his shit now. It was like, fuck. Like a 90s movie. </p><p>They were at the country club, Robby the extra, tagging along with the LaRussos like always. He and Sam were kind of something, kind of not. She hadn't wanted to say it and he hadn't wanted to push it. He saw Luke from across the pool. Maybe Luke saw him. </p><p>Robby lost his fucking mind. They fucked in the parking lot, next to the dumpster, fast and dirty. Luke caught him after, tucked Robby's head against his chest, said, "Nice to see you, too."</p><p>Robby almost bit him. It was fucking close, he seriously would have done it. He had his teeth over Luke's neck but he pulled himself together, pulled his shorts up and shook his head. "Yeah."</p><p>He probably should have bitten him. At least it would have set the tone for that whole mess, that summer. It wasn't like it got any better after that; that was probably the pinnacle. But he didn't. He let Luke fuck him around for three weeks, get him kicked out of the house with the parents in it, get him back to a person he'd grown the fuck out of. He'd thought he had his shit together but it only took one look to throw Robby back to pieces. </p><p>But you know what? It turned out okay. Robby did not get back together with Luke. </p><p>For a second, though, standing there, pressed against each other, Robby thought: <em> okay. This is how it's gonna go. </em> It really felt like everything was going to just go back to how it was. In that moment, Robby was happy. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby manages to get a charger. It takes a little maneuvering but he leans on <em> group project </em> and that seems to help. He doesn't get to pay for it but he wasn't expecting to. That used to be nice until Robby understood that it was just another way of keeping Robby, making sure he wasn't going anywhere. It's stupid because Robby wasn't <em> going </em>anywhere. It was Luke who left him. </p><p>His phone is fucking dead, though. He puts it in Luke's jacket pocket and lets Luke wrap an arm around his shoulders, just for a moment. </p><p>Luke makes him try on like four pairs of shoes, but it's easier now that the tension has broken, to fall back to Luke's side. If Tory were here she'd say <em> what the hell, Swayze? </em> But Tory isn't here, and if she was here she'd be busy being mad that Robby used her to make Miguel angry, so they probably wouldn't get to the shoe situation. </p><p>Robby ends up with Allbirds, which are a good compromise between what Luke wants (loafers) and what Robby wants (his own sneakers). They're comfortable and if he puts a puffer vest on over his shirt someone will think he's a startup intern. He's starting to figure out the person Luke is building, the one he thinks Robby could be: someone who fits into Luke's world effortlessly, with grace. </p><p>It used to be the boyfriend, so Robby could wear black sometimes and skate. Now maybe boyfriend isn't an option, because there's already a boyfriend. Maybe now Robby is an ambiguous friend from school. Maybe it's Robby, who's doing his own thing, but isn't a disaster. Robby isn't a disaster, most of the time. It's just that whenever he sees Luke things are not going that well. Sometimes that is Luke's fault but sometimes it is not.</p><p><em> What would you even want? </em> he thinks. What do you give the man who has everything? That's not Luke, though. Not even from the beginning did Robby think that Luke had everything. </p><p>Luke reaches over, curls his hand around the back of Robby's neck. Holds tight.</p><p>Robby is tired, even though he slept fine in Luke's bed, slept late, even. It feels like it's been a long day and it's barely three in the afternoon. He smells like new clothing, and the smell of mall popcorn that always gets on you when you've been there a while. </p><p>He's excited to get out of the mall, to be able to breathe. It's not that it's hard to be with Luke, so much as he is always aware of what someone will see when they look at Robby. He doesn't feel like that when he's at home. It took him a while to get like that but he just feels like himself. </p><p>So now it feels harder. Heavier. It used to be second nature.</p><p>"Tell me about them," Luke says, shifting shopping bags from one hand to the other. He doesn't look tired. He looks like he always does; like he has a plan. Even when he doesn't. Luke never does anything without knowing what it will look like. Robby used to admire it, how he was so together, all the time. Now he wonders if Luke is tired, too. </p><p>Robby doesn't want to. He doesn't trust Luke with anything about himself, let alone- </p><p>But what he wants doesn't matter. That's basic. </p><p>"Tory's cool. I think you would like her." Tory's a lot like Robby, and Luke likes Robby. Luke's also like, gold star gay, so maybe he wouldn't. "She and Sam hate each other, but like, kind of in a fun way. You wouldn't think Sam would just hate someone, but she just hates Tory."</p><p>"Sam was a cute kid," Luke says. "Terrible at fractions. Her and the Robinson kid both." </p><p>"It's funny, thinking about you like that," Robby says. "You never taught me math." </p><p>"You never asked," Luke says. "You were so prickly when I taught you to drive, I didn't want us to break up over quadratics."</p><p>"I wasn't <em> prickly, </em>" Robby says. "I was learning to drive, you were the one who wouldn't let me in the Audi."</p><p>"<em> Now </em> I would let you in the Audi," Luke says. "So I did a good job." </p><p>Robby rolls his eyes. "Sure," he says. "Okay. You did a good job." </p><p>Luke smirks. "Yeah, I did. So that's the girlfriend. You like having a girlfriend?" </p><p>Robby shrugs. "I like her," he says. "I don't know about <em> having a girlfriend, </em> but I like dating Tory, if that's what you mean. And I like dating Miguel." </p><p>Saying his name feels kind of scary to do. To bring it onto this sidewalk occupied by just the two of them, into this city where Robby came to be with Luke. </p><p>Luke doesn't move but his jaw clenches, just a little. Whatever; he's the one who brought it up. "He's violent," Luke says, quietly. Tightly. Like he's been trying to think of the right way to say it. "Don't you think that?" </p><p>Robby chokes. "No," he says. "I don't. Wait. Do you think <em> I'm </em> violent?" </p><p>"No," Luke says. He shrugs. "I mean, you didn't almost break my wrist."</p><p>"You were being a real asshole," Robby says. "You deserved it."</p><p>"Yeah," Luke says. "But he was comfortable doing it. You're not like that. You get pushed. But he was ready to do it the whole time. And the way you fight -" </p><p>"Are you seriously," Robby begins, and then he has to take a breath because he doesn't want Luke to really flip, that would fucking ruin his day. Get it together, Robby. Be fucking polite. "Miguel and I <em> spar </em> ," he says. "We don't hurt each other." <em> Not like you hurt me, anyway.  </em></p><p>Luke breathes out. Robby thinks he's going to drop it. "Your dad," he says, quietly. "He's like that too. Right?" </p><p>Robby says, "I don't want to talk about this anymore." He lets it snap out of him, like a rubber band that's been pulled too far. </p><p>Luke looks at him, thoughtfully, and for a second Robby thinks he's going to keep going, run over Robby like he always does, but - "Okay," he says. "Just think about it."</p><p>The suite is empty when they get in. Robby's grateful. He doesn't know if he has it in him to talk to more people - more of Luke's people. More people who will try to fit him into Luke's life, who will see him in terms of Luke. He got used to not thinking of himself like that. (Instead, he thought of himself in terms of his fucking dad. Great call, Keene.)</p><p>"Nap," Luke says, firmly. He puts down all the bags in a pile behind his bedroom door and pushes Robby gently towards the bed.</p><p>"I have to do laundry," Robby says. This feels like an old argument, Robby refusing to make more trouble for the people who worked at Luke's dad's house and Luke telling him to get out of everyone's way. </p><p>"I just bought you, like, five days of clothing," Luke says. He half-lids his eyes to look at Robby, so Robby knows Luke appreciates what he sees. "And you had a shitty morning. Chill out." </p><p>"Oh, I had a shitty morning? Nobody's fault though, it just happened?"</p><p>"Don't push it, kid." Luke holds the straight face and then he breaks it, grinning. "It's gonna be a late night. You don't want to fade early."</p><p>Robby says, "You know I can rally." But it does look comfortable. He really is so fucking out of it. If he's asleep Luke can't bullshit him. "Don't draw on my face."</p><p>Luke laughs. "Pinky swear."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby wakes up with Luke's arm across his chest, Luke's thigh across his hip. It's dark outside. For a second it's last year, and Robby's going to wake Luke up with a slow, dirty, slide - but that's not what's happening. </p><p>Robby's phone has been charging; Luke must have plugged it in. That's nice of him. The screen lights up as Robby looks at it. Shit. </p><p>Luke makes a soft sound but there's ten minutes left on his phone alarm so Robby - <em> fuck </em>. Okay. Robby kisses Luke's hair, like he would have when he was sixteen and didn't want to disturb his boyfriend. It feels wrong but it keeps Luke asleep, undisturbed. </p><p>He ducks into the bathroom and turns the shower on, sitting down on the closed toilet lid. The sound of water fills the room, fills his ears. He misses the ocean. </p><p>Robby’s phone feels - god. It's been twenty-four hours and already Robby feels bad with his phone in his hand, because Luke <em> doesn't want him to have it </em>. Of course he knows it's fucked up - it's fucked up! - but there's nothing to do about it. Just ride it out.</p><p>"Robby?" Miguel's voice hits him in the solar plexus, heavy, hard. Fuck. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. Maybe his voice wavers, maybe that's just how it sounds. "Thanks for picking up."</p><p>"Are you safe?" The words come out rapid-fire fast, like Miguel's been practicing, trying to say them as fast as he can. "You said that he would never hit you. Is that still true?" </p><p>Robby's stomach hurts. "Yes."</p><p>"Do you need backup?" </p><p>Robby stares at the shower curtain. It's cheap and plastic, dorm-room white. Water pools at the bottom of the tub, underneath it. "No."</p><p>Miguel sighs, a static crackle at the end of the line. "Your dad's freaking out," he says. "You know things are bad here, right? Like, really bad."</p><p>Robby <em> knows </em>. It's not like he didn't think about it. It's just that - "You weren't gonna let me help you, anyway. None of you were."</p><p>"Do you need someone to come and get you?" <em> Do you need me to come and get you? </em></p><p>Robby swallows. "No."</p><p>"Okay." Miguel's voice is tense, a live wire. "Kreese told everyone about your dad. And then - about your dad and Sam's dad. Did you know about that?" Robby imagines what he must look like. If he's sitting in his room, with one knee drawn up against his chest, long limbs dangling. If he's biting his lip, if he's mad. He's probably mad. His brow is probably furrowed. Maybe he’s playing with the hem of his shirt.</p><p>"Robby," Miguel says, slowly, biting the words off one by one. "You knew?" </p><p>"How did Kreese know?" Robby asks. "Wait, are they - is it a thing?" </p><p>"I'm sure if you were here they would tell you," Miguel says. "Fuck, Robby. Hawk told Sam over the PA system. They almost fought."</p><p>That spikes fear in Robby's chest, sharp and pure. "They <em> what </em>?" The shower keeps running. He sticks his hand into the cold, fierce spray. </p><p>"Tory stopped it. But it was fucking close."</p><p>It doesn't take much to picture it. Robby's walking proof that breathing can bait Hawk into a fight, let alone Hawk with something to prove. And Sam's a good fighter, lethal, when she gets her head in it. She's been doing it so long her muscle memory takes over before the first hit can land. </p><p>Sam doesn't like Tory, but she trusts her. Hawk likes Tory and he trusts her. Sam likes Miguel but doesn't trust him, but that's not quite the point. </p><p>"Tory stopped it." He imagines her in between them, like when she got between Hawk and Miguel at the party. Aisha would back her up. Snake shit. </p><p>"Yeah, it was a whole thing." Miguel sighs. Robby pictures him raking his fingers through his hair. "Just because they didn't fight doesn't mean it's not serious." </p><p>Robby’s mouth is dry. "Are you asking me to come back?" </p><p>"<em> Can </em> you come back?" Miguel's voice wavers. "Does anyone know where you are?" </p><p>"You, I guess. My mom."</p><p>"Fuck," Miguel says, again. "I'm going to tell Tory."</p><p>"Okay."</p><p>"I won't tell your dad," Miguel says. "But you should tell your dad. Or you should - fuck. Can you please come home?" </p><p>Robby's heart aches. It feels fucking dramatic, thinking about it like that, but it does. "I-" </p><p>"He's bad fucking news," Miguel says, softly. "And I need you."</p><p>"I can't," Robby says. His tongue feels huge in his mouth. "Miguel, my dad -" </p><p>"This isn't about your dad," Miguel snaps. "This is about me. And Tory, and Sam. You're just gonna disappear?" </p><p>"It's only been a day."</p><p>"You can't just text me like that," Miguel says, and Robby can pick through the anger to the real deep hurt buried underneath, because that's how Robby's dad deals with shit too, "and then just bail. You want me to say it out loud? Because I will."</p><p>Robby says, "I can't, Miguel. It's not like you'd let me help you, anyway."</p><p>"Get fucked, Robby." That's pure Johnny Lawrence, speaking through Miguel Diaz' lips. It hurts to hear it. It's ugly to think about and uglier to feel. "You can't say what you said and then turn around and tell me you hate your dad more than you care about me."</p><p>Robby wants to dig a hole into the earth. He wants to say <em> yes, okay, I'm coming </em>. He opens his mouth and no sound comes out. </p><p>"Are you there?" </p><p>"I'm sorry," Robby says. "I can't."</p><p>Miguel doesn't say anything; Robby stares into the shower, waiting. He wishes he was there now. They would spar and Miguel would probably win, because he gets better when he's angrier, and he would catch Robby's face in his palm and Robby would lean up and kiss him. </p><p>It's stupid. Obviously. Robby should get on a plane, go home. He can afford a plane ticket, even a last second one at the counter. </p><p>He loves Miguel. He is <em> in love </em>with Miguel. He doesn't want Miguel to be alone. Not while everything is falling apart. </p><p>But he <em> can't </em>. </p><p>Sometimes when Miguel speaks he sounds like Robby's dad, and it makes him seize up. Miguel doesn't mean to do it. That's why it's so hard to handle. </p><p>At least Luke is predictable. At least Robby knows what to do with him. With Luke Robby can't make anything worse. </p><p>"I should have told you I was leaving," Robby concedes. </p><p>"Well, I wasn't talking to you," Miguel says, kind of bitter kind of hurt. "So maybe I should have seen it coming."</p><p>"My dad promised me he wouldn't do it," Robby says. "He promised me. And then he went and did it." It sounds fucking stupid when he says it like that, even to himself. What's another fucking let down? </p><p>But Miguel breathes out, a long aching sound. "<em> Robby </em>.” He still sounds angry, but there are layers to it.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Robby grits out. His eyes are wet. "I want to."</p><p>"Okay," Miguel says. He sounds less angry, more resigned. "Okay."</p><p>"You can tell me about it," Robby says. "If you want."</p><p>Miguel says, "When do you think you'll come home?" </p><p>"I don't know. Soon. I hope."</p><p>"Maybe it would be better if you didn't. Just so we can keep everything stable, you know?" </p><p>"Okay." That hurts to say. "My dad is really freaking out?" </p><p>"Do you care?" Miguel sighs. "Sorry. I know you care."</p><p>"It's okay." Robby feels like shit, tired to the bone even though he just woke up. "I know you care about him."</p><p>Miguel says, "I know he hurt you. I know he keeps hurting you. But Christ, Robby. We had a fight and you went to that guy? Really?"</p><p>"It's not because of you," Robby says, and then, quickly, "he has a boyfriend."</p><p>Miguel laughs, a choked little sound. "Great, Robby. That makes me feel so much better." </p><p>"Glad I could help," Robby says, trying so fucking hard to keep his voice light. "Sam's mad at me too, if it helps."</p><p>"It doesn't." But Miguel sighs, and his voice is softer, now. "She's mad at pretty much everyone right now. Especially your dad. And her dad. Probably her dad more than your dad."</p><p>"Oh, good." Robby laughs. It's not a very convincing laugh, but he's trying his best. "It's probably my dad's fault. It usually is."</p><p>"I don't know, Robby," Miguel says. "I think it might - I don't know. Your dad really misses you. He hasn't seen Sam's dad since you left. We had to go to the woods to train." </p><p>"How's your handstand?" Robby asks. "Is it getting any better?" </p><p>"I fell on my head," Miguel says. "So, yeah. Picking up." The sound of his voice is familiar, soothing. For a second Robby forgets everything else; it's just him and Miguel and everything's normal, everything's going to be all right. But then - "Robby, I'm serious. Are you safe?"</p><p>"Safe as anyone ever is," Robby says. His face is wet from the cool shower spray. "You know I can get myself out of trouble."</p><p>Miguel hums. "I'm really mad at you," he says. "Just so you know." </p><p>"I know," Robby says. "I deserve it." </p><p>Miguel's voice drops. He says, very softly, so Robby has to strain to hear it, "Was it my fault?"</p><p>"What?" Robby has to sit down, on the edge of the tub, where it's wet and also grimy with soap scum. "I didn't leave because of you. I left because I don't know how to live with my dad anymore. I promise." </p><p>"Robby," Miguel says. "You and Tory."</p><p>Robby closes his eyes even though Miguel's not there to see it, and he can still see Miguel's face, see the way he'd look at Robby, biting his lip. The way he'd be walking the line of hurt and anger, the way he'd wobble, trying to keep his shit together, because he's a good man. "What did she say?" </p><p>"She doesn't want to talk to me about it, either. She's mad at you for telling me."</p><p>"Great." Robby swallows. "It wasn't about you. It was about being scared shit was broken forever, okay? It wasn't. It was fine. But if it was she didn't - we didn't - want to find out with you. Because that would have sucked for you."</p><p>"This sucked for me, too," Miguel says. "Just so you know." </p><p>"I know," Robby says. </p><p>"Do you want to fuck him?" Miguel asks. "<em> Luke </em>." He bites out the name, careful, with venom. "I'm sure he wants to fuck you."</p><p>"He's a fucking asshole," Robby says. "So, no." That's easy to say, at least, because it's the truth. Huh. That's nice to know, actually; he hadn't put that into place until this moment, right now. Sure, the sex would be good - the sex with Luke is always good - but afterwards Robby would feel worse, he wouldn't be able to get the smell of him off his skin. </p><p>"So why are you there?" </p><p>"It's hard to explain," Robby says. "I guess, maybe, if I say it like this: he's the only person who's ever taken care of me. Nobody else."</p><p>"He <em> ghosted you </em>." And that's only the start of the shit Luke's done to Robby, the barest tip of the iceberg. "He let some guy punch you in the face, Robby." </p><p>"Yeah." Robby's butt is damp. Great. "He was gonna get a scholarship to go to UPenn. I tanked it." </p><p>"You what?" </p><p>"I didn’t do it as like, a good thing," Robby says. "He wanted to not have to take his dad's money. I didn't want him to go that far away. He still dumped me, so it doesn't matter, but I just - it wasn't just him being a dick. So you know." </p><p>"Robby," Miguel says. "He was a real fucking dick to you." </p><p>Robby stretches his legs out in front of him. He still has bruises from kata last week, when Sam knocked him off the board and he went down shins-first. It feels like a whole different world, now. "Yeah." </p><p>"You didn't do anything to deserve that," Miguel says. That's the fucking guidance counselor talking. Robby's dad would never say something like that. "I know what I said, but you should come home." </p><p>"Will you be there when I do?" </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The party is a party. It's like any of the UCLA parties they went to when Robby would hang out on Luke's arm and grin at everyone, crammed into a big suite with the music up so loud it hurts Robby's ears. Trip's there, wearing a short-sleeved shirt with buttons. Robby stares at the muscles in his arms for a little while, and Trip and Luke laugh gently over the top of his head. Maybe it's mean but it doesn't feel all that mean, right then. Just feels like any other night with Luke and someone handsome.</p><p>"What did you give him?" Trip asks, when Robby sways against his shoulder. </p><p>Luke kisses him on the mouth, carefully. "You want some?" </p><p>"Maybe later." Trip catches Robby, tucking him into his chest. "Hey, buddy."</p><p>"Hi," Robby says. He smiles for maximum dazzle. He's a cute fucking kid, that's what Luke always said. </p><p>"You wanna babysit?" Luke asks, kissing the top of Robby's head. "I just have some shit to do." </p><p>"Sure," Trip says. "That okay with you, Keene?" </p><p>"Where's Scott?" Robby asks. He likes Scott. Scott's nice. </p><p>"Keg stand," Trip says, gesturing with his elbow. </p><p>"Oh," Robby says. He laughs. "He was here, like, a second ago." </p><p>"It happens," Trip says, amicable. "C'mon, I'll get you a drink. Bye, Malone." When he puts his arm around Robby it feels solid and sure, like when Luke does it. God, that's weird. Robby kind of assumed there could only be one Luke in a relationship. He was kind of fucked up about it, because there wasn't really one with him and Miguel and Tory, but he tried to be the Luke and, well. Look how that worked out. </p><p>Luke waves and disappears into the crowd. He has a leather satchel so he's probably doing something he could get expelled for, if he was the kind of person who got expelled. </p><p>"It's loud," Robby says. He feels like a kid, like he was the first couple times he went out with Luke, when everything was over his head. Maybe a little of that's because he's floating. Maybe a little more is because he wants to be home. </p><p>He doesn't have his phone. He let Luke take it back. Maybe that was fucking stupid, but it's all fucking stupid, anyway. What would he do, anyway? Call his dad fucked out of his mind to scream at him? Please. He got that out of his system when he was thirteen years old. His dad never called back. </p><p>"Yeah," Trip says. He looks at Robby, thoughtfully. "Luke's kind of full on, huh?" </p><p>Robby laughs. "You could say that. Isn't that the appeal?" </p><p>"Maybe," Trip says. "Depends what you're looking for." He hands Robby a cup and Robby drinks. </p><p>"That's water," Robby says. </p><p>"Yeah," Trip says. "You look like you could use it." </p><p>"Oh," Robby says. He tilts his head, trying to read Trip's face. "Did he tell you why I came?"</p><p>"He told me enough," Trip says. "We're not exclusive. So he didn't have to tell me much."</p><p>"You like it like that? You don't mind?" Robby blinks. Shit. Whatever that was packed a punch, or he's lost his edge. Probably both. </p><p>"Yeah," Trip says. "I like it, and I don't mind." He squints down at Robby. "You didn't like it?" </p><p>"Not really," Robby says. "Shh. Don't tell anybody."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby used to skate with this guy, Alex. He was older and at UCLA then, but he'd been around since Robby was a kid, actually a kid. He bandaged up Robby's scraped knee the first time he bailed out when he was at the park without his mom, so she wouldn't freak out.</p><p>Alex knew Luke. They weren't friends but they were friendly, enough that they ran in the same circles. Enough that Robby ran into him in line for the bathroom at a party Luke's best friend was throwing and Alex said, "whoa, kid, shouldn't you be watching cartoons?" but he laughed and ruffled Robby's hair and let Robby show him his drunk handstand, which was not as good as his sober handstand but honestly was pretty cool, for how drunk he was. </p><p>Luke did not like Alex. But Luke was bad at not liking people, at showing it. It was left over from his dad, maybe. (Robby said, laughing, that that was what he liked Robby for. Because it took no pushing at all to get Robby to bare his teeth and snarl. Luke shrugged and kissed him, which meant Robby was right.)</p><p>Luke didn't snarl. Instead of getting mad he smiled even more, made a point of spending time with Alex and inviting him places. Luke knew a bunch about skating, because of Robby, and a bunch about how Alex specifically could skate, again because of Robby, and he was good at using it.</p><p>Alex didn't like Luke much either, but that was Robby's fault. Robby didn't mean to fuck things up between them, but by the time he realised, it was too late. </p><p>Alex liked <em> Robby </em>. He always made time for him, at the park or at parties. Luke didn't like that but he didn't say anything about it, just tightened his hand on Robby's hip when Alex was around, made excuses for both of them to leave early.</p><p>Robby <em> liked </em>Alex. He liked Alex's girlfriend, too. Her name was Caroline. She sometimes came to the skate park, shooting video on her phone. She thought Robby was sweet, thought Robby was a kid. He bristled about it when they made a point of it, but it was cool, too, getting treated like he needed to be looked after. Luke did it, too, but he did it in a different way and he always kissed Robby. It was always like Robby was a little behind and Luke needed to catch him up. Not the way Alex tried to make things easier for him, softer. </p><p>Maybe Robby liked it. Nobody else thought of Robby as a kid, not really. Not the teachers and definitely not Robby's mom. </p><p>It took Alex a long time to come out and say it. They were at the park; Robby was working on his kick flip and Alex was smoking a little weed, giving him tips. </p><p>Robby came over to take a break and have some of the joint, stretched his legs out in front of him. It was a sunny day, and Luke was at home, studying. Robby didn't know if that meant studying or it meant hanging out with the new exchange student, but either way it wasn't really his business.</p><p>"Hey," Alex said. "I think you should break up with him." </p><p>Robby was so startled he almost dropped the joint, but he caught himself. "What?" </p><p>Alex reached over and took the joint from Robby's fingers. His fingers were shaking, just a little bit. Like he was nervous. "I think you're a smart kid," he said, quietly. "I think you should be with someone who's nice to you. Luke's not - he's not a nice guy."</p><p>"He's nice to me," Robby said, automatically. </p><p>Alex flinched. "Okay," he said. "Just - he's had boyfriends before, okay? It didn't go well for them."</p><p>"I'm not them," Robby said. "He likes me the best." Out of everyone Luke had ever met, ever kissed, ever fucked, Robby was the best, and Luke liked him the most; Robby knew because Luke told him all the time, every day. </p><p>Alex blew smoke away from Robby's face. "Kid," he said.</p><p>"I'm not a kid," Robby said. "I know you think I am, but I'm not." </p><p>Alex looked away. "Okay," he said. "Why don't you show me that move again?"</p><p>Of course Robby told Luke. He didn't think Luke would care; people told Luke to dump Robby all the time. That was why Luke had to put so much work into Robby, into making sure Robby could hang with his friends, not fuck up with the wrong fork or whatever. Robby always laughed when Luke told him that stuff, so he figured Luke would, too.</p><p>Luke did not laugh. He tangled his hand in Robby's hair, harder than he usually did, and pulled Robby into his lap and sunk his teeth into Robby's lip, so hard it <em> hurt </em> , so Robby jerked against him and slammed the heels of his hands against Luke's shoulders and would have said <em> what the fuck </em> if Luke's teeth weren't <em> in his mouth </em>. </p><p>When Luke let go there was blood in Robby's mouth. "That fucker," he said.</p><p>Robby licked his lip, thoughtfully. He could feel Luke trembling against him. "Love you too," he said. "I'm not going anywhere."</p><p>Luke kissed him again, this time gently, licking over the bite marks as if to apologize. "He doesn't know shit," Luke said, into Robby's cheek, breath hot and damp against Robby's skin. "Remember that, sweetheart."</p><p>They saw Alex at a party that weekend. Robby had been in Luke's pockets all that week, Luke refusing to let go of him; he'd been stuck in Luke's room while he did homework, which was super boring since Robby refused to do his own homework and Luke wouldn't even let him get high. It had been kind of nice to not come home to anyone else leaving, though, so that was something. </p><p>Alex darted his eyes between the two of them, Luke with his hand in Robby's back pocket and Robby leaning against his side. "Hey," he said. </p><p>"Hi," Robby said. He wanted to hug Alex hello, but Luke wouldn't let him go, so he settled for a wave. "Where's Caroline?" </p><p>"The flu," Alex said, making a face. </p><p>"Oh, that's been going around," Luke said, smoothly. You wouldn't know he was furious if you didn't know him; he looked comfortable, happy. But Robby knew him and could feel the taught-wire of his musculature pressed against Robby. He could feel the white-hot of Luke's rage, almost as if it was turned on him. It wasn't, though. </p><p>Alex looked nervous, as if he knew, but he didn't do anything weird. He just leaned in and ruffled Robby's hair and said, "Good to see you, kid." </p><p>They got drunk and then they got fucked up. Sometimes they did it in different orders but it all ended up in the same place, which was Robby and Luke in someone's bedroom, and the moonlight coming in, and the easy shape of Luke's hips against Robby's. </p><p>This time it was Alex who came in. He knocked on the door and said, "Oh, shit, sorry," and tried to back out, like he'd always backed out before. </p><p>But this time Luke sat up, letting Robby roll off him. He reached down for Robby's fingers and tangled their hands together. Squeezed once. <em> Trust me. </em></p><p>Robby always did. What was the point in doing anything else? </p><p>"Don't leave," Luke said. "Come in." </p><p>Alex said, "I shouldn't." In that light Alex was handsome, Robby realized; tall and tan, with big dark eyes and dark hair that curled around his ears. Robby knew how strong he was, how he was built with all that wiry ability, how he could fly under the right circumstances, on the right board. He had raised his hand to knock and Robby could see the wire-corded muscle in his forearm, trace it all the way up to the bicep where it disappeared into his t-shirt.</p><p>Luke said, "Okay, Alex." He smiled, his broad wolf smile. "No pressure. I know you want to look out for Robby. He just wanted to say thank you." </p><p>"Robby?" Alex asked. His eyes flicked to Robby, to his eyes, to his mouth. They stuck on his mouth for a long moment; maybe just the drugs. But still, they were there. </p><p>"Hey," Robby said, raising his hand to wave. He wondered what he looked like. Luke had basically cured him of being shy about this kind of thing, but now he remembered, enough to come out of his head a little bit and think about it. Lying there, in jeans and a button-down shirt, all the buttons open, so anyone could see all the little vampire marks Luke had left on him. </p><p>Luke squeezed his hand again. <em> Back me up, kid. </em></p><p>"You should come in," Robby said, because Luke wanted him to. He was floating but he liked Alex. He knew nothing would be bad if Alex was there. Not that Luke would let bad things happen to Robby, because he wouldn't. But Alex wouldn't. Alex <em> liked </em> Robby. </p><p>He wondered if Alex had ever thought about it before. He wondered if <em> he </em>had ever thought about it. Maybe not, but now, that Alex was coming in, pushing the door shut behind him carefully, it seemed obvious, like something he'd just been waiting for the whole time. He wondered if Luke had known the whole time.</p><p>Probably not. Luke had disliked Alex the whole time, from the beginning. </p><p>"Kid," Luke said, stroking his thumb across Robby's cheek. "You wanna?" </p><p>Alex was right there. Eyes bright. Looking nervous, for real. Breathing unsteady. Robby had never seen him like that before but maybe he liked it. He never got to get one over anybody, not really. </p><p>"Hi," Robby said, crossing the bed on his knees, so they could look at each other. "Is this okay?" </p><p>Alex bit his lip. Looked away. That didn't mean it wasn't, though. </p><p>"Hey," Robby said again. "Alex."</p><p>Alex's eyes darted back to him, down to his mouth. "Kid-" </p><p>Robby's mouth was kind of sore. He knew it was probably red from Luke chewing on it; he raised his hand to it, experimentally, and watched Alex's eyes flash. "Okay," he said. "You're okay." </p><p>Alex nodded.</p><p>So Robby leaned up and kissed him. It was fine. It was a little weird, but Robby liked the way Alex cupped his hand around Robby's face when they kissed. He could feel Luke's eyes watching them but he was used to that. It made it hotter. It made it easy to just - slide in, melt against Alex, like he was Luke, like Robby had wanted it since the first moment they'd met. </p><p>(Later, he would wonder - </p><p>But it wasn't a productive thing to think about, really.)</p><p>They got as far as Robby's hand in Alex's jeans before he freaked out. "Fuck," he said, pulling back from Robby, hands knotting in the bedspread. "I can't." </p><p>It felt bad. It felt like being rejected, being told Robby wasn't good enough. He made a little sound, against his own conscious will. </p><p>Luke hummed, and his big hand came to settle on Robby's shoulder, the thumb rubbing along the side of Robby's neck. "Okay," he said. "It's up to you." </p><p>Robby felt himself lean against Luke, tuck his face in Luke's shoulder. At least Luke was warm, present, there. He wouldn't let go. </p><p>"It's okay," Luke murmured, into Robby's hair, against his cheek. "I got you, baby." </p><p>Later, Luke showed him the pictures he'd taken. "You look so hot," he told Robby, running his fingers over Robby's belly, dipping below his waistband. </p><p>In the pictures, Robby looked delicate. The moonlight made him look younger than he was, made his eyes look bright. When Alex kissed his neck he looked - </p><p>Robby tucked his face into Luke's neck. "I'll take your word for it," he said. </p><p>It sucked that Alex didn't text him back the next day, or the day after that. He wasn't at the park, either. He'd been at the park since Robby was like, eleven or something; Robby even asked around, but nobody knew where he was skating now. Robby got the kick flip on his own but it took for fucking ever. </p><p>
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</p><p>Robby's cleaning up at flip cup. He kicks ass at flip cup; it's a niche skill, but it's important.</p><p>Trip's somewhere around here, looking handsome in that East Coast way of his. Robby still hates him. It's more of an obligation than anything else, but that doesn't water it down.</p><p>Everyone is nice and also wasted, which is great, because that's what Robby is, too. It's been a minute since he was at a party without Sam or Miguel - Beth's doesn't count, he wasn't there to party - and it's fun to be the one getting babysat. Not that he needs it but it's satisfying to make Trip do it.</p><p>He hasn't been fucked up in so long. Maybe that's why he came out here. Maybe he just wanted to get wasted without having to talk to his dad afterwards.</p><p>He's also good at pool, but that's not really relevant right now.</p><p>Robby mostly doesn't like being the centre of attention, but it's different when he's good at something; even easier when he's drunk on top of that. God, it's nice to be fucked up and not worried about it. </p><p>Robby's team wins this round and that's cool, it's enough for now. He's fucking drunk. </p><p>He takes a big dramatic bow. "Be right back," he says. "Call of nature."</p><p>He wants to see Luke. It's been an hour; that's too long. Not that it's Robby's business, but it feels like Robby's business.</p><p>Luke makes everything easier. Or: he makes everything not Robby's to worry about. Not like Miguel. Miguel needs Robby just as much as Robby needs Miguel. When Robby's with Miguel what he wants matters.</p><p>Robby knows Luke and he knows what Luke wants. Luke thinks he's so complicated but people are only ever animals. </p><p>They've been at the party a couple hours. Luke will be starting to fade. He gets sick of being so fucking bright all the time. </p><p>Robby just needs to find the right quiet place. </p><p>It takes him a couple tries, two dead ends - bedroom and balcony, both occupied by other people - but he's still got it. </p><p>Bingo. Robby cracks the fire door open, Luke perching on the edge of the fire escape, pretending to smoke.</p><p>Robby's going to say something about that - the way Luke always feels like he needs an excuse to do something, even something as simple as getting some air at a party - but Luke's on the phone.</p><p>"John," Luke is saying, "I'll send you the money, but you keep my name out of it."</p><p><em> John? </em>It's a common name.</p><p>Robby's heart thunders in his ears. He pulls back, keeping the door open with the flat of his hand but his body out of view.</p><p>"His name's not <em> the kid </em>, it's Robby. He's fine." A pause. "Fuck you, man. I take care of my shit. If you could do that we wouldn't be talking now."</p><p>Robby presses himself flat against the wall. Shit. Shit.</p><p>Okay.</p><p>He opens the door again, making as much noise as he can this time. "Luke?"</p><p>Luke says, "I'll talk to you later," and puts his phone in his jacket pocket, getting to his feet. "Hey, kid."</p><p>"Hi," Robby says. He steps forward, into the arm Luke is holding open for him. Leans his cheek against Luke's shoulder. "Important phone call?"</p><p>Luke kisses his hair. "Nope."</p><p>Robby lets his weight rest against Luke. It's stupid how easy it is. How it feels good, but now there's a reason for Robby to do it. Be fucking nice, Robby, and maybe you'll get what you want. "Miss me?" It's fun to ask. </p><p>"Always." It's fun to hear it answered. </p><p>"I don't like your boyfriend."</p><p>"I don't think he likes you." Luke cards his fingers through Robby's hair. "Does that make you feel better?"</p><p>"He's not like me," Robby says, basking in the sensation. "He won't let you fuck with him just for fun. You keep pushing and he'll snap." He twists his face so Luke's fingers can get down into the side of his neck.</p><p>Luke hums, pressing his fingers into the tight muscles where Robby's always sore. "Thanks for the heads up, baby."</p><p>"You're welcome." Robby shrugs. And then, because he's drunk and Luke smells good, "I think he'd be good for you, if you'd let him."</p><p>"Yeah, okay." Luke stills his fingers until Robby makes a little sound of protest, and then he starts again. </p><p>It's funny. For the longest time Luke was enormous in Robby's head, a superhero. Larger than life. The world oriented itself around him. Robby became a reflection of Luke, a thing that lived to be like him, to like him. </p><p>Now Luke's just a guy. A handsome guy who Robby wants to impress, sure. But still a guy.</p><p>Robby tugs his head out of Luke's hand, says, "I was a good boyfriend. To you."</p><p>Luke blinks. "Robby?" </p><p>"You weren't just saving me, I mean. You needed me, too." Robby stretches his arms above his head. "I don't think you trust other people like you trust me. Because other people have shit to lose and I really only cared about you."</p><p>"Past tense, huh?" </p><p>Robby looks Luke up and down. He's so big, like always. Eyes as bright as Robby's dad's. His shirt's rucked up over his waistband. "Why are you freaking out?" he asks. "You got everything you wanted."</p><p>Luke says, "I'm not -" And then he says, "I'm too drunk for this, Swayze."</p><p>"Okay," Robby says. He tangles their fingers together. "You wanna go back in?" </p><p>"Not really," Luke says. He sighs. "I wasn't fucking with you for fun."</p><p>Robby says, "Oh." It doesn't feel like enough so he squeezes their hands together. "I know."</p><p>Luke sighs, presses his lips to Robby's temple. "I don't know who I am without you. Does that help?" </p><p>"It would if you meant it." But he lets himself fold against Luke. He thinks he will miss him, probably, when this is all over. </p><p>Robby should be angry, maybe. He should be like Tory, bright and furious. He should be baring his teeth.</p><p>He doesn't want to do that. He doesn't want to pretend he's shocked and he doesn't want to pretend it upsets him. Maybe that's worse, that it doesn't, but it doesn't. He knows who Luke is. He's not startled by it. It's what he knows.</p><p>Robby goes home with Luke and Trip. Scott's not leaving and offers to get him home later if he wants, but Robby yawns, oversized for the effect, says he's done for the night. Trip eyes him with obvious irritation but hey, that's what Robby's here for, right? Annoying kid brother, not ex-boyfriend. </p><p>Weird. But not bad. Maybe if they'd been like this from the start it wouldn't - </p><p>That's not worth thinking about. So Robby won't.  </p><p>He just trails after Luke and Trip, shoves his hands in the pockets of the stupid nice jeans Luke bought for him. He smells like smoke and sweat and spilled beer and a little bit that whiff of perfume that clings to you after you've been up close with girls. He forgot that, because Tory and Sam both just wear deodorant.</p><p>It's nice to get into Luke's suite. It feels familiar, the way everything that Luke has always feels familiar to Robby, now. He wonders if the opposite is true for Luke. Probably not; they spent most of their shared time in Luke’s life, not Robby's. Luke wouldn't know what to do in Robby's dad's apartment. Maybe he would like the plants.</p><p>They stop in the entrance. Robby toes his shoes off.</p><p>"We're gonna-" Trip says. His hand crawls up the middle of Luke's shirt.</p><p>"Unless you want to join us," Luke says, smirking.</p><p>"I'm good," Robby says. He settles into the couch. "You two have fun." He snaps his fingers at Luke. "Oh, you have my phone, right?"</p><p>Trip frowns, startled. Robby's intuition was right: Trip's not Luke. Trip doesn't think it's normal to take someone's phone. Because it isn't. </p><p>Luke hesitates, and for a second Robby thinks he's pushed it too far, but -</p><p>"Yeah, you know you're always leaving shit places." He pulls Robby's phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and tosses it over. "Don't stay up too late, kiddo." </p><p>It shouldn't be this easy. It should feel bad to just take what he wants and not care about Luke. But isn't this what Luke did the whole time?</p><p>It isn't. Robby knows it isn't. Luke loves Robby even if he doesn't love Robby in a way that doesn't hurt. Luke loves Robby so much it makes him forget what he wants, which is everything, ambition like a world-eating snake; of course he turns that same single-minded need to possess onto Robby, too.</p><p>Robby just. Doesn't want it anymore. Doesn't need it. The empty spaces inside him are different now; they're the wrong shape for Luke. He needs space for himself, too. </p><p>Luke doesn't know how to make space for him. It's not that he doesn't want to. Robby thinks genuinely if he could he probably would. </p><p>God. If they were normal Robby would just say, who were you talking to? And Luke would say, oh, my friend John. And that would be that. </p><p>If they were normal maybe they would just be boyfriends, now. Trying to keep it long distance. Doing their best. </p><p><em> God. </em> </p><p>He can hear vague murmuring through the wall. Dorm rooms have such thin walls, you'd think they would be better about that, considering. It's not a big deal, Robby's used to that shit. Still. Weird to hear.</p><p><em> Hey </em> , he texts Tory. <em> Got something to talk about. Call me when you can. </em></p><p>It doesn't take long. Five minutes, maybe, of Robby staring up at the pale halogen light, feeling the leftover buzz settle in his bones.</p><p>"Robby?" It's so good to hear her voice.  </p><p>"Tor." He stretches out on the couch. He's slept on worse couches. This one might kill his back but it'll be okay. "Heard you almost got in a fight."</p><p>She hums. "Yeah, you're welcome. Without you LaRusso against Cobra Kai might not have ended so well."</p><p>"Ugh." Robby sighs. "She's tougher than she looks."</p><p>"Demetri isn't," Tory says. "I don't think anyone except Hawk wants to see that cage match."</p><p>"Demetri's tougher than he looks, too."</p><p>"Not hard, he looks like a marshmallow." A pause, and then, "Were you calling about Demetri, Keene?" </p><p>Robby says, very quiet this time, "I think Luke's talking to Kreese. I don't know for sure. I don't want to freak anybody out in case I'm wrong."</p><p>"It's okay to freak me out, though."</p><p>"It’s a sign of affection. Like a cat bringing you a dead bird.” Robby grins to himself and feels it slip off his face. “It sounds stupid. But he said <em> John </em> and then he said <em> the kid </em> , and he’s like that, you know? When you’re his you’re <em> his </em> and he let go, but I shouldn’t have -”</p><p>“Breathe, Robby. It’s okay.”</p><p>“It’s not,” Robby says, but he does: three in, three out. Again, again. “He’d do it. He wouldn’t just let it go. I thought he didn’t care about me, but my dad thought Kreese didn’t care about him. Look how that turned out.”</p><p>“Fucking Kreese.” She exhales sharply, like she does at the start of a match, before she throws a punch. “I hate him. I hate that Hawk trusts him now. I hate that Miguel hates him so much that I sound like I like him when I just think Hawk wouldn't switch sides for no reason.”</p><p>Robby presses the tips of his fingers against themselves. There’s something in her voice; there’s something she doesn’t want to say.</p><p>"The thing is," she says, finally, "is that it's my fault Kreese bailed Hawk out in the first place. He was ours before that. Just barely, but he was."</p><p>Robby looks back up at the ceiling. "Yeah," he says. "You should have let me come with you." </p><p>Her voice is brittle. “Well, if you want to be like that-”</p><p>Robby leans back and presses his fingertips over his eyes. “Okay, hit me. I deserve it.”</p><p>She takes a deep breath. “You threw a bomb and then you left. It was a dick move.” </p><p>“I didn’t plan on leaving.” He feels the weight of his eyelashes, of his bones. “I was just mad.” </p><p>“Then you throw your <em> own shit </em>,” Tory snaps. “Not mine, okay? Especially not that.” Her voice drops to a bare whisper. “You were supposed to have my back.”</p><p>Robby’s throat works. He swallows, and swallows again. “Yeah. Is he mad?” </p><p>“I don’t know, Robby, what do you think?” </p><p>“I think he’s probably distracted because I skipped town? You’re welcome.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Robby.” She spits that one with venom. He can hear the sharp edges, like the bracelet around her wrist she used to wear all the time, until she left it in Robby’s bedroom where it got stuck under his bed. “You flipped out because your dad fucked someone, you think I don’t get to be mad about something that directly involves me?” </p><p>Robby’s shoulder hurts, a kind of phantom sensation, the memory of someone big and strong wrapped around him. If this was Luke he would dig his fingers into Robby’s shoulder, hard enough to bruise. Robby would get mad and Luke would get madder and then Robby would back down and say whatever he had to say to make it stop.</p><p>He doesn’t <em> want </em> to do that, is the thing. He wants to not have done it, sure. But he can’t. He was angry and he lashed out and Miguel didn’t deserve it and Tory <em> really </em> didn’t deserve it. </p><p>“We should have told him,” Robby says, finally. His voice sounds hoarse now, scraping at the inside of his throat. “Before we did it, but definitely after.”</p><p>“Yeah,” she says. “But that was my choice, okay?”</p><p>“Not <em> just </em>yours.” He rubs his fingers across his mouth. “I know why you didn’t, because I didn’t want to, either, okay? I know. I guess it just felt bad and I was being a fucking dick.” </p><p>“Jesus,” she says. “Write it in your fucking journal next time, okay?” </p><p>“I just didn’t want to be the only person who let him down.” Robby’s chest hurts. He shouldn’t be doing this here, not now, not when Luke could come through the door. But he can’t <em> not </em> say it, because he <em> misses her </em>. His heart slams against his ribs, over and over again.</p><p>She breathes, in and out. Finally: “Christ,” she says. “Robby. You understand that I want to trust you, right? We all do. We’re not waiting for you to fuck up.” </p><p>Robby’s face is kind of wet. Maybe his nose is running. He wants to turn the lights out so he gets up and does it. He can hear the sound of Luke and Trip fucking through the wall. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I should have told you I didn’t want to not tell him.”</p><p>“I shouldn’t have waited,” she says, sighing. “I just didn’t want to, yet, because I didn’t know how to say it to not make him feel like shit about it.”</p><p>“Well, you’re welcome on that one.” Robby looks out the window at the dark grass. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” she says, gently. “I didn’t want to tell him that it couldn’t have been anyone but you.”</p><p>The moon really is so bright. There’s less city out here, it feels less dense even with all the university buildings. “Me too.”</p><p>“Fuck,” she says. “What does he see in us? Honestly.” </p><p>“I don’t know,” Robby says. “But I’m glad he does.” And then - “It was the right time to do it, and you were the right person. I know that. I think probably he does, too.”</p><p>“Yeah. We’ll talk about it. If you would <em> come home </em> we could talk about it with you.” But she’s softer now, easier. The storm is passing, the sky is coming clear. </p><p>He wishes he could be there with her, so she could run her fingers through his hair. “You know you didn’t make Hawk break that guy’s leg. He chose to do it.”</p><p>“He did it for me. That makes it mine. You know that.”</p><p>“That’s fucked up.”</p><p>“Save it,” she says. “What did your boyfriend do, Robby?” </p><p>“He’s not my boyfriend.”</p><p>“You’re fucking not acting like it.” He can see her vividly now, just on the other side of the reflected shape of his own face in the window pane. She’s biting her lip; her braid is falling across her shoulder. She has one hand curled into a fist against her thigh and with the other she is reaching for him, a gesture she does not quite consciously intend but that is mirrored in his own grasp. Sometimes he thinks he knows her better than he knows himself, but it’s not true.</p><p>“I heard him on the phone,” Robby says, quietly. “I think he’s sending money.”</p><p>“Fuck,” Tory says. “You don’t mess around, do you?” </p><p>“Go big or go home.” The window is cool against Robby’s fingers. He wishes she was here, but he would never bring her into this. </p><p>“So come home.” But she huffs a little breath. “Are you safe? Diaz said you said that, but I want you to say it to me.”</p><p>Robby closes his eyes. “He’s not happy,” he says. “When he’s not happy he takes it out on other people.”</p><p>“Baby-” A harsh sound, almost a sob. “Okay.”</p><p>“He’s not - He’s having sex with his boyfriend, right now. If that helps.” He wants it to help. </p><p>She laughs, startled. “Kind of,” she says. “Fuck, Robby. You couldn’t just throw a rock in the Pacific like the rest of us?”</p><p>“Have you ever done that in your life?” </p><p>“No,” she says. “But Diaz says it works. He’s all about that visualization shit.”</p><p>“Whatever he did,” Robby says, quietly, “he did it in my name. You know I can’t leave.”</p><p>He pictures the shape of her mouth, the sting of her fingers against his wrist. “I know.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t say that if it’s not true,” she says. “I don’t need that, and you don’t, either.”</p><p>“Okay. I miss you so much it hurts, how’s that?”</p><p>“I hate you sometimes,” she says, low in her voice, exhausted. “Christ. I miss you too. Figure this out, okay? Kreese has a lot of fucking money, so if it’s from him, your ex, you better be careful. That’s a lot of crazy to have all about you.”</p><p>“I’m used to it,” Robby says. He doesn’t say it lightly, though; he says it like she would, because it sucks and it fucked him up and it’s fucking him up, still. “Are you okay? You and Diaz?”</p><p>“We’re fine. We’re - nobody’s happy, obviously. But nobody’s in the hospital. Diaz checks his phone every five minutes and he won’t let me kiss him. It’s nothing that can’t be undone.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He means it. Talking to Tory is not like talking to Miguel. Tory knows what he’s asking, really, and she knows how to give him the answer he needs to hear.</p><p>“Yeah. Don’t do something you can’t take back, okay?”</p><p>“I’m doing my best.” </p><p>There’s a clatter from the door - Scott, maybe. Christ. “Who turned the lights out?” </p><p>“Just me,” Robby says. “Tor, I gotta-”</p><p>“I know,” she says, resigned. “Let me know, okay? Not just what you think I want to hear.”</p><p>The lights turn on, horrible and bright. Robby blinks the sting away. “Yeah. I promise. Talk to you soon.”</p><p>“Night, Keene.”</p><p>“Good night, Nichols.”</p><p>It’s Scott with his hand on the light switch, grinning at Robby with that big easy grin of his. “Hey, kid. You want a beer? It’s infomercial time.”</p><p>“I would love a beer,” Robby says. He puts his phone in his pocket and grins back.</p><p>Scott is good company. He’s strung out and a little bleary-eyed, but he’s friendly and warm and he makes space for Robby on the horrible couch, handing over his shitty beer and laughing at all Robby’s not-so-funny jokes. </p><p>Robby likes Scott, as much as you can like anyone who's friends with Luke, which is a lot. They're easy guys to hang out with. It's also specifically easy to flirt with Scott. It's harmless. He's definitely straight, but the kind of straight guy who likes flirting with anyone. </p><p>Out here it’s different than it is at home; Robby doesn’t have to be as careful with the drinking as he would, and it’s a mellow kind of buzz anyway, tempered by the crash from the adrenaline spike of Tory’s sharp voice on the phone. </p><p>By the time Luke’s door swings open, Robby is partway back to drunk. In his sweet spot, where everything’s good and loose and warm, but nothing is out of control. </p><p>Robby's head is in Scott's lap and Scott is petting his hair. "Hey," Scott says, raising a hand to Trip and Luke. Luke’s wearing basketball shorts and Trip is wearing briefs, draped across Luke's shoulder.</p><p>Robby yawns. "Have fun?" </p><p>Trip kisses Luke. "I'm gonna shower," he says. "See you in a minute, Robby."</p><p>Luke scrubs his hand through his messy hair, but his eyes catch on Robby, stop and settle and go hard. "Glad you're making friends, kid." </p><p>Robby lets the smile spread across his face, lets it curl into a smirk. "Doing my best," he says. "Someone told me it's important to be polite when you're a guest."</p><p>Scott looks back and forth between them. "Oh, it's like that? Coulda warned me."</p><p>Robby shrugs. Kinda complicated to do it on Scott's lap but he's not getting up. "It's not like anything. Isn't that right?" </p><p>Luke's nostrils flare. Trip's right there though and Scott's right here. His voice is perfectly pleasant, not even a ripple. "It's not your bad, Davis. Robby's a handful."</p><p>"I'm at least two," Robby counters, still smirking. "You gonna sit down or just glower?"</p><p>"I'm not glowering," Luke says. He comes over to them, takes Robby's beer from his hand and sits down in the armchair next to the couch. He's not wearing a shirt and Robby isn't looking at that, because he's lying on Scott and they were talking about Timothée Chalamet. </p><p>"Hey," Robby says. He sits up, so he's next to Scott. "I was drinking that."</p><p>"Okay," Luke says. He raises the bottle to his mouth and drinks the whole thing in one long swallow. "Now you're not."</p><p>"Play nice," Scott says. He ruffles Robby's hair. "Robby's been teaching me about gay cinema. I wanna watch Brokeback Mountain."</p><p>"You'll cry," Luke says. He kicks his bare feet up on the table. "You cry at the beginning of cute animal videos when the kittens are orphans before they meet the puppies or the goats." He raises an eyebrow at Robby. "And you slept through Brokeback Mountain."</p><p>"It was boring," Robby says. "But, you know, important or whatever."</p><p>"You were asleep," Luke says. "You woke up for the kiss and then you said, <em> that's boring, </em> and went back to sleep."</p><p>"Maybe you should have explained it better," Robby says. He gets up, stretching his arms out. Luke watches him do it, but that's fine. "I'm gonna get some water."</p><p>"There's more beer in the fridge if you want it," Scott says. </p><p>"He's fine," Luke says. Sharp, possessive. </p><p>Fuck that. Robby doesn't belong to him. "Yeah, actually, I'd love another. You want one?" </p><p>Scott's eyes swing back and forth between Robby and Luke, but he's drunk and mellow, he'll let it go. "Sure. Thanks."</p><p>Robby bends over, looking into the fridge. He can feel Luke's eyes on his back but the sound of Trip's shower is running and Scott's here, talking about the party, filling up the silence. Tory's voice is in Robby's chest, wrapping around him like a shield, like a blanket. Insulation. </p><p>He <em> wants </em> to go home. He wants to be a person who deserves to go home to her.</p><p>"Luke? Beer?" He doesn't turn. He doesn't want to. </p><p>Luke doesn't say anything. A slow simmer is rolling under the surface. Robby's pushing. He shouldn't be doing it. He knows better than to push. </p><p>He takes two bottles, condensation cold against his fingertips. </p><p>Robby's his dad's son. He can open a beer bottle without an opener. He stays down, gives himself a good long swallow before he gets back up. </p><p>"Here." He hands Scott's bottle over the back of the couch, raises his eyes to meet Luke's. He has to fight the instinct to back down, bare his throat, but at least that's familiar; Robby's spent his whole life doing the opposite of what his body wants him to. </p><p>Luke is pretending to be at ease. Legs splayed, sinking back into his chair, the empty bottle discarded. Eyes hot and quiet and only on Roby. </p><p>"Thanks, kid."</p><p>Robby blinks, looking down at Scott. "You're welcome." He swings over the couch to take his seat again. </p><p>The shower cuts off and all of them turn to the hallway where the bathroom is, where Trip is emerging from the bathroom.</p><p>Trip's drying off his hair, towel loose around his hips. "Scottie," he says. "I'm going home. It's a school night."</p><p>Luke reaches up for him, for his hand. "Thanks, babe."</p><p>"You don't have to," Robby says. "I can crash out here."</p><p>Trip smiles at him, an easy broad smile. He looks so comfortable. Even at the best times Robby was never comfortable, not like that, with Luke. He was happy, sure. But he always felt like there was something else he needed to be. "I wouldn't do that to you," he says. "Not that couch."</p><p>Robby doesn't know if he wants Trip to leave. He does, of course, because he doesn't like Trip, and he wants - knows that he always wants - Luke all to himself. But Luke's prickly, prickling. Robby used to know how to manage that. </p><p>Fuck, he's out of practice. </p><p>Luke kisses Trip, his hand curling around Trip's cheek. But he's looking at Robby, bright-eyed. </p><p><em> Fucker </em>, Robby thinks. He covers it with a swallow, beer bitter against his tongue. He's still buzzed. He holds on to it, rides it out, even as Trip disappears into Luke's room and comes out again, fully dressed. </p><p>Trip looks - how would Luke put it? - <em> Rode hard. </em>But put together. Robby never looks graceful like that, not even after all that practice. He always looks fucking embarrassing after sex, blushing like a kid, hair a mess. Luke used to tease him but he liked it, because even when Robby was fucking other people it was really always Luke fucking him. </p><p>"Okay, I really gotta go." Trip grins, claps Scott on the shoulder. Looks at Robby, thoughtfully, but then pulls him into a hug. He smells like soap. </p><p>"Goodnight," Robby says, into Trip's shoulder. </p><p>"Night," Trip says. </p><p>Then he's gone and it's just Robby and Luke. And Scott, but Scott's trashed, he doesn't count. Scott has nothing to do with the sudden heaviness that descends through the air. </p><p>Luke rises to his feet, swift, like a predator. </p><p>"Bedtime, Robby. Let's go." His hand falls on Robby's shoulder. Squeezes once, then again, harder. </p><p>"Night, Scott," Robby says. "Thanks for the beer."</p><p>"Anytime, Swayze." It's kind of nice to have the nickname back. </p><p>Robby lets Luke lead him back down the hallway, to the rooms. He can feel Luke vibrating against him. He used to kind of like this, how much Luke <em> felt things </em>, because he was so hard to read sometimes, because it felt like he could put Robby aside so easily, and Robby could barely stop thinking about him even when he wasn’t around.</p><p>Luke opens the door for Robby and then shuts it behind them. His ceiling light is big and bright and the huge fucking bed is a mess. At least someone opened the window; probably Trip. </p><p>"What the fuck was that?" Luke hisses. He leans his back against the door. <em> Real subtle, </em> Robby thinks.</p><p>This time Robby does roll his eyes. He's drunk and he wants to go the fuck to sleep. "You just fucked your boyfriend in here," he whispers, even though he's pretty sure Scott knows what's going on. Luke can be subtle, but he wasn’t, tonight. </p><p>"You can change the sheets, if you want." That familiar cruel twist to his mouth, fuck, Robby, you're in it now. He knows what that sounds like, cool and mean to cover up the insecurity layered under it. It means get it together, Robby, right the fuck now. </p><p>He sobers up real fucking fast, like being dunked in ice water. </p><p>Fuck. Stupid to forget where he was, to get confident, to think - that's not the game, Robby, you lost by playing at all. </p><p>Maybe he's not as sober as he thought. </p><p>Robby puts his hands up. "Okay," he says. "I can change them."</p><p>Luke's gaze is heavy on him, unyielding. He looks at Robby like he's doing math. "I asked you a question."</p><p>"He's your roommate," Robby says, keeping his voice low. "Chill out, you know him. He's <em> so </em> straight."</p><p>"Is that what your boyfriend said?" Luke unscrews the top of the whiskey on his desk, brings the bottle to his lips. </p><p>Robby almost takes the bait. Miguel didn't sign up for any of this, he was just stupid enough to kiss Robby back. He's drunk and he's tired and the way he feels about Miguel is enormous, enough to fill a whole building, and it's also precious and beautiful and something Luke isn't allowed to touch.</p><p>But that's what Luke wants. Luke wants a fucking fight because he wants Robby to lose, to remember who he is, who he belongs to. </p><p>Robby takes a deep, deep breath. He forces his shoulders down, away from his ears. "Nah," he says. "My boyfriend doesn't have issues like that."</p><p>"Give him time," Luke snarls quietly. "I'm sure you'll push him to them."</p><p>Okay. So they're doing this now. </p><p>"Give me the sheets," Robby says, playing for time. </p><p>Luke's mouth flattens into a thin line but he stalks away from the door and to the bed, pulls open the drawer underneath it and emerges with a handful of linen to toss in Robby's direction. "Here."</p><p>Robby strips the bed, trying not to think too much about it. The fabric crumples under his fingers. </p><p>Luke doesn't help. He just leans against the desk to watch Robby, playing with the whiskey bottle. His gaze is heavy as ever, and mean this time. </p><p>Robby hooks the fitted sheet over the first two corners; has to step past Luke to get the remaining two. There's really not a lot of room in here and Luke isn't getting out of his way. </p><p>"Did you have fun at the party?" Luke asks. "Did you make any more friends?"</p><p>Robby squares his shoulders. This is what you do when you're about to take a hit. He's not going to take a hit. He shakes out the top sheet instead. His hands are trembling.</p><p>"I don't want anyone else to touch you," Luke says. "I hate thinking about it, it makes me sick."</p><p>Robby says, "You're wasted."</p><p>Luke shrugs. "It's still true." He narrows his eyes, that hot look in them that Robby used to think was love. "Don't tell me you don't think about it too."</p><p>That's what's dangerous about Luke. He tells the truth. He makes the truth sound ugly even when it isn't. </p><p>Robby looks away, smoothing the new sheet with the back of his hand. "Can we just go to sleep?" He hates that he never fights back, but he can't. There isn't anywhere else to go. </p><p>That's a lie. He could go to the airport right now if he wanted. Just sit there and wait for a flight to open. He <em> could. </em>It would suck but he could do it.</p><p>That makes the band around his chest ease. He's not fifteen anymore. He's choosing to be here. He's getting something out of this. Not just Luke. </p><p>He could snap back if he wanted. It would be okay. Even if Luke went nuclear - even if he did the worst shit, the shit he always does - Robby would just pick up his shit and leave. He can do that. There are places he can go.</p><p>Luke reaches out for him, like he always does. His fingers graze Robby's wrist. </p><p>Robby doesn't pull away. He doesn't step closer - he kind of wants to, but he always kind of wants to - but he doesn't pull away. He wants to pull away, too. </p><p>"Robby," Luke says. </p><p>Oh. The shake is <em> need </em>. </p><p>"Luke," Robby says. "You really did miss me."</p><p>"I'm so fucking tired," Luke says. "Can you please just not fuck with me for one minute?" </p><p>Robby almost laughs in disbelief - who the fuck's talking? - but he doesn't. He just stands still, with one hand on the bed and the other hand with Luke's fingers pressed against it. "Luke?" </p><p>Luke screws his eyes shut. Robby can see, now that he's looking, exhaustion underneath his eyelashes, in the paper-thin skin around his eyes, in the lines around his mouth. </p><p>"Oh," Robby says. "Hey, it's okay. I'm here." He steps forward, once, then again, and settles his palm against the side of Luke's ribs. He can feel Luke's warm skin, knows Trip was just here but it's okay; it doesn't matter to Luke so it doesn't matter to Robby. The light is too bright, Robby can see everything down to the veins in his wrist that's pressed against Luke's chest, but he doesn't want to let Luke go. </p><p>"Fuck.” Luke doesn't open his eyes. </p><p>"Bedtime," Robby says. "We're going to sleep now."</p><p>"Okay," Luke says. "I'm sorry."</p><p>Robby sighs, low in his chest. He pushes Luke back, onto the clean bed with the new sheets, and lets go of him to turn out the light and strip out of his own clothes, the new ones that used to smell like department store but now just smell like beer and smoke. Cool air comes through the window as Robby crawls into bed and wraps his arm over Luke's chest. "Just me," Robby says, quietly, into Luke's hair. </p><p>"I know," Luke says. He folds his hand over Robby's forearm and holds him there.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Luke sighs and turns his head away, looking back into the depth of his mug. "You never used to talk to me like that."</p><p>"I used to be fourteen," Robby says. "Quit stalling." </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: references to dub-con, abusive relationship dynamics</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Luke's dead asleep when Robby wakes up. Asleep he looks sweet, harmless, even. He could just be a handsome guy whose head is on the pillow next to you, whose hand is tangled up in yours, who sighs when you try to push him off you and get up and go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took Robby a while to fall asleep last night. He was drunk but not drunk enough, and Luke was heavy and warm and he smelled like someone else. It was weird, obviously, and fucked up, of course. But Robby still likes sleeping with Luke, because Luke was the first person who wasn't his mom who held out his arm for Robby, and held him in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He isn't used to Luke being like that, insecure and scared, but he's not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> used to it. Luke's a person, even if he's still a superhero in Robby's mind. They were together for two years, a little more. He's seen a lot of Luke, more than Luke ever showed anyone else. He knows Luke's got a hole in him as big as Robby's. That's why they found each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Luke is the one who walked away first. Robby has to remember that; Luke didn't ask Robby to stay, to save him. Luke's never asked him that. He's never been able to admit he needs Robby the way Robby needs - used to need - him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby lies there for a long time, listening to the sounds out the window - just college kids, the sounds of music and frisbee and whatever else is going on. It's nice, peaceful. There's a world where this is his life, where he's just here, and Luke is here, and maybe they worked everything out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not the life he wants. He knows that, now that he's here, now that he's not home, where Tory and Miguel are, where his mom is. Where Sam and Mr LaRusso and even, god. Even Robby's fucking dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to live here, in Luke's pockets. Even if Luke is nice to him. Even if god, it's so easy to fall in beside him. To be his shadow, to let him make all the choices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He presses a kiss to the base of Luke's palm and gets out of bed. The floor is cold against his feet; he is a little hungover. Not too much, which is lucky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's probably going to be fucked when he does wake up. He needs to drink a lot more than Robby for it to hit, and he always waits until he's really fucked before he stops caring and starts drinking whatever mix is going around, so the sugar always hits him too late. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it's Robby's business. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. It really isn't his business. Luke's not even that nice to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby feels like a fucking asshole but he swipes into Luke's phone anyway. He's done his time in petty larceny and Luke got sloppy, didn't hide his swipe pattern. Not that it's changed, which is either sweet or insulting depending on Robby's mood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He scrolls through the texts. Nothing exciting - a couple dick pics, which, clean your history, man - the usual. Luke's not selling as much as he used to. His dad's pissed about his grades, but Luke's dad is pissed about everything, all the time, from Luke's grades to his clothes to his friends to Luke being gay. Can't do anything about any of them but he'll bitch about it and Luke will feel like shit and then take it out on Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shouldn't be here, like this. He definitely shouldn't be here like this when Luke could wake up any minute. Luke's erratic but he would definitely lose his shit if he caught Robby going through his </span>
  <em>
    <span>phone</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Well, Robby should have lost his shit when Luke took his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby's phone? Luke was too fucked last night to have done something with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's right there on the nightstand, next to where Luke's was. His and his charging cables. God. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has cables at home, in his bedroom at his dad's apartment. Sometimes the cables get stuck in the plants - like when Tory is hungover and trying to fish her phone out - and dirt gets all over his floor. He had to put a power strip in for all their phones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby skims his fingers over the black surface of his phone. It's not like there's anyone he's waiting to hear from. And Luke will feel better if he sees Robby trusts him enough to leave his phone there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a new guy in the living room. He's fucking around on his phone when Robby comes in, feet up on the arm of the couch but he raises his head when he sees Robby. "Hey," he says. "Robby, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says. "That's me. Mike?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nice to meet you." He gets up, stretching. His hair is dirty blond, not bright like Luke's, but he's handsome too, and cut where his t-shirt rides up over his stomach, baring the sliver of skin between the hem and the beginning of his sweatpants. Holds his hand out to Robby and then pulls him into a half-hug, claps him on the shoulder. He pulls Robby like he's nothing, which, Robby knows this kind of guy, that's the point.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have known Scott was too nice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets Mike hold him for as long as is necessary to make his point and then he steps back, keeping Luke's phone in his hand, behind his back. "Scott out?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's in class," Mike says. He laughs. "Better him than me; sounds like he had a big night. How's our boy?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Robby a second. "Oh. Luke's asleep." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike nods and sinks back down into his seat. "If you want coffee I think Davis left some shit out for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I'm good," Robby says. He slips Luke's phone into his waistband behind his back and perches on the arm of the other chair. "Thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So, Robby," Mike says. "Robby. Not Rob?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says. He keeps his chin steady, head up. He hates the friends of Luke's that are like this. They’re the ones that see him as prey, to make a point. Luke is a product of his environment as much as Robby is, and they're worse vipers than anything Robby's dad teaches kicks and punches to. "Robby. Sometimes Swayze, that's my middle name."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughs, a low sound. It's like Luke's. "That sounds like a story." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'd have to ask my mom." Robby stretches out his legs, toes first, to keep his balance. His muscles are getting tight, he's going to have to ask Luke to take him somewhere to work out. Fucking stupid, horrendous, how quick and easy it is for Robby to think like this - dependent, like he's at Luke's beck and call - but maybe he is. "She's full of stories."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll bet." Mike doesn't push, though. "What do you think of Trip? He's a nice guy, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "Yeah," he says. "He and Luke seem like a good match. They're both fun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Mike says. "He's friends with my girlfriend, that's how we met actually. Me and Cath, I mean. Luke and I go way back, we were freshman year roommates."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I bet you have stories."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah. Took one look at that guy, thought, we'll kill each other or be best friends. Thank god he's gay or we'd have killed each other for a girl's attention second week in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike's easy to talk to, but he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>venomous</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Robby's lost his tolerance for it. He used to be good at it, because of Luke, and Luke's fucking friends, but Luke </span>
  <em>
    <span>left</span>
  </em>
  <span> and now Robby only does it at the dealership and that's different, that makes it a game between Robby and Mr LaRusso or Mrs LaRusso or Anoush, whoever's selling that day. Mike's fishing for dirt on Luke, fishing for dirt on Robby; maybe he doesn't know he's doing it, maybe he's trying to get an edge unconsciously. Maybe he's doing it on purpose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Either way, Robby's not that hungover but he feels like he's too hungover for this. If it wasn't Luke's roommate maybe he'd just bare his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Probably not, though. Luke trained him out of that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows this kind of friendship. He knows that Luke collects these kinds of knife-edge allegiances, quid-pro-quo shit that felt fucked up even in high school. Maybe now he's older it counts as networking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's door cracks open and he comes out into the hall, pulling a t-shirt over his head. He's a little too controlled for it to be unintentional; buying time, maybe? "Morning," he says, sleep-rough. "Is it morning?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike laughs. "Noon. Close enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke pads across the floor, squeezes Robby's shoulder and sits down in the chair. His hand slips down to Robby's hip and before Robby realises he's yanked sideways, into Luke's lap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby almost yells but Luke's fingertips against his skin pull him back together. Luke's a fucker but this isn't for Luke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s for Mike, who’s watching them, watching </span>
  <em>
    <span>Luke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, eyes cool like a snake’s, like something worse.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Robby hates Luke's fucking friends. But even though he fucking should he doesn't hate Luke. Maybe that will change. He leans back into Luke's broad chest, feeling Luke's hands settle across his thighs. He must feel the phone in Robby's waistband, but he doesn't say anything. They're a team. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, Robby misses Sam. He misses her so fucking much. He would take her yelling at him right now, or even flailing around at the bottom of the murky pond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, right now Luke is Robby's team. That's a depressing thought.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have dry land training," Mike says, thoughtfully, eyes flicking between the two of them. "I'll see you later. Nice to finally meet you, Robby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You too," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have sex on that couch, you clean it," Mike tosses off, rising to his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Luke says, palm on the flat of Robby's belly, "fuck you, man." Robby can feel the smile against his neck. Robby hates Luke when he's like this. It feels more dangerous than usual. Maybe it's just that it makes Luke more raw than he normally is, sensitized and overexposed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door shuts behind Mike with a firm click and the air changes just like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke holds up his hand in front of Robby, Luke's phone in his palm. "Wanna talk?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's still in his lap. He twists around, doesn't get off even though he fucking should. Maybe it's an advantage, that they're so close to each other. For who? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby's knees land either side of Luke's thighs; he settles his hands on Luke's shoulders. "John Kreese. Tell me about him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's a good fucking liar. "Babe, what? Who is that?" His eyes widen; his body language is innocent. He's still holding on to Robby, but gently, like he's surprised, like he doesn't know what's going on. Robby would believe him if he didn't know, but he does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I will walk out," Robby threatens. He's surprised by the sharpness in his own voice, the clarity. "You walked out on me so many times but I have never done it to hurt you. But if you keep lying to me I will." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watches for the internal conflict, the battle behind Luke's eyes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Give in or don't?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke hates someone getting one over on him. But - and this is a gamble, but Robby thinks probably worth it - he doesn't want Robby to walk out. He cares about Robby. He wants to keep Robby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke is fucked up about it, but he doesn't want Robby to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke breathes out, a soft huff of a breath. "Baby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby digs his nails into Luke's shoulders, shifts his weight to his own thighs. "Don't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke closes his eyes. The lie drains out of him, resignation slumping through his shoulders. "I wasn't trying to hurt you," he says. "I was just - you have to understand. I was so worried about you. I'm still worried about you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus," Robby says. He's shaking. He gets off Luke because he has to, but he's still in Luke's living room in boxers and Luke's t-shirt so whatever, he isn't going to leave. Yet. "What do you want from him? Fuck that, what does he get out of you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The party," Luke says, puzzling it out. "Shouldn't have taken the call."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably not," Robby agrees. Unflinching. Where was all this calm when he needed it? Well, it's here now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You have to understand," Luke says. "I was freaking out, okay? I was fucking scared."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of what?" Robby is not supposed to be the one who gets mad but fuck it. Luke's hungover and exhausted and also Robby is </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "You were scared of </span>
  <em>
    <span>what,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Luke?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your dad's a piece of shit," Luke says, tilting his chin up, keeping his jaw firm. "You know that and I know it. And you went back to him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's my </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Robby says. He can't help it. "He's my fucking dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your boyfriend almost broke my wrist!" Luke half-snarls, almost shouts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, remember Trey and Cruz? They were gonna beat the shit out of me. They would have done if it wasn't for Mr L. So stop acting like you're any different."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby does roll his eyes. "Don't act like you didn't know who you were in bed with."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I won't when you don't," Luke says, almost automatic. "Shit. Can I just make some fucking coffee?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't want a green juice or something?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I swear to god, Robby." He gets up, going over to the little kitchen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's shitty, obviously. Robby is vibrating and he's miserable. But it's kind of fun, too. Robby's never really been allowed to actually get mad at Luke. Not since the very very beginning, when Luke was on his best behaviour and Robby was shiny and new. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He sounds normal when you talk to him," Luke says. He rests his palms on the counter, leaning into them. He looks apologetic, genuinely regretful. Probably that he got caught. "Just like a guy. Reasonable, you know?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says. "You saw what they did to my car."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke takes a swift breath. "I -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ah.” The realization aches. "You were already in it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You told me to leave," Luke says. "You said it wasn't my problem." He sounds hurt. Fucking Luke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't know you had made it your problem." Robby likes having the upper hand. He likes it so much. Too much. "Or that you </span>
  <em>
    <span>were</span>
  </em>
  <span> the problem."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke turns away from him, filling the kettle. His hands are shaking. Robby is reminded, suddenly, of his own fucking dad. The way his dad got when Robby caught him. Robby thought he had looked relieved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, that's the fun part gone. Now only the sickening part left, the pit in Robby's stomach that's sour and exhausted. Part of him, a bigger part than he thought, really was sure there was a reason. Or, at least, that Luke would give him one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's not trustworthy. Robby knows that. But at the very least, the lowest bar possible, he wasn't supposed to be involved in Robby's shit at home. He was supposed to have his own shit to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was supposed to only be able to hurt Robby in ways Robby was used to. This is new. It sucks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's bad for you," Luke says. He doesn't look at Robby. Maybe he's embarrassed; that would be unlike him. "All of it. When I said that you ignored me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You hate when I ignore you," Robby says. "That's what this is? A power play?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a game</span>
  <em>
    <span>," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke says, jerking his head up. His eyes are wide and sincere. "It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "I'm going to brush my teeth." He needs the moment, the space. It's giving Luke space, too, time to rally and pick himself up, but it's just like sparring: you do the math on how much you'll recover, if it'll give him - or her - the advantage. Robby needs this. He's confident he still has the upper hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because he threatened Luke and Luke </span>
  <em>
    <span>folded. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke doesn't fold. When Robby was a kid Luke would have let him walk out, would have fucked someone else so he really knew his place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, though. Now Robby's the one who can walk out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at himself in the dirty mirror. He doesn't look hungover but he looks tired. There's waxy residue from someone's lipstick on the side of his cheek, no colour left but the faint oil slick sunken into his skin. His stare is just as heavy as Luke’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tap water is stale in his mouth. He rinses, spits. Splashes cold water across his face for good measure, scrubbing until all of yesterday's dirt is gone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Feel better?" Luke asks. He's back in the armchair, the press out on the table in front of him with an empty mug; he's cradling his own between his palms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did, yeah," Robby says, but mildly. He sits down on the couch, kitty-corner to Luke. He wishes they were in the yard at Miyagi-do, or even in the parking lot at his dad's. Luke's never seen Robby fight, not for real, not in the flesh. Robby wouldn't hurt him but maybe Luke would understand that Robby can take care of himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Robby could take care of himself he wouldn't be here. So. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke doesn't say anything. He just watches Robby with his bright clear eyes. He's probably feeling pretty bad, hungover and vulnerable with it. Robby doesn't feel sorry. You press the advantage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>See, snakes? He learned something from you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't touch the coffee. "Did you tell him?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs, does him the credit of not feigning confusion. "I don't have anything to tell him. Yet." His hair curls a little around his face. Robby's fingers itch to reach out and smooth it back into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. If he believes it it's a peace offering, an expression of loyalty. Luke saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm still on your side, baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. If and yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby decides it's not urgent, right now. Tucks it to the back of his mind, behind his teeth. "What are you doing with him?" He doesn't want to say the name. Not if he can avoid it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Baby," Luke says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby holds himself very still. Nobody else calls him that except his mom. It feels intimate and also dangerous, which is probably what Luke wants, because it's what he always wants. "Luke." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke sighs and turns his head away, looking back into the depth of his mug. "You never used to talk to me like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I used to be fourteen," Robby says. "Quit stalling." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke takes a deep shuddering breath. "It wasn't my idea. I was just looking around, trying to figure out where you'd gone; you weren't at your mom's and you weren't at the LaRusso's. Your dad has decent marketing."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Thanks, Hawk,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby thinks. Yet another reason to be pissed off at that stupid haired fucker. He rests his hands on his thighs, palms-down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He said I was right to be worried about you, which I knew anyway. You were different when I saw you, and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> about your fucking dad, all right? Like you know about my dad. I knew that even Shan didn't want you to have anything to do with him and Shan - when she draws the line that matters, don't you think?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't disagree. But that's what Luke is good at, more than just the lying. Saying true things in a way that isn't fair. "He's different now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So why are you </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" Luke says, exhausted, exasperated, like it's Robby who's being crazy. "Fuck, Robby. I love you, okay? I wouldn't - I love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shakes his head. "So you were mad that I picked up a sport and made some friends you didn't okay first. Then what? Did you let him teach you?" He pauses, drops his voice. Luke does it when he's pissed off and Robby knows what it feels like to be on the receiving end. "Did you fuck him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke stares at him and then he laughs. "Christ, Robby. Is that what I sound like?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Worth a shot," he says, pouring his own coffee. No milk and no sugar, of course. He could get up and go to the fridge - he's sure he saw some milk in there, Mike doesn't seem like he'd buy Luke's weird shit about food - but he doesn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't let him fuck me," Luke says, rolling his eyes. "I'm an investor, technically, so I guess I could have fucked him, but please. Give me some credit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby just raises an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Come on," Luke complains. "If I'm gonna fuck an ugly old dude you know I'm gonna get </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> out of it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sips his coffee. "Whatever you say."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke lowers his voice; not in a threatening way, Robby doesn't think. But not exactly </span>
  <em>
    <span>non </span>
  </em>
  <span>threatening. "It's not like you're unfamiliar."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's mean. Robby never fucked anyone Luke didn't want him to, when they were together. If there were any men to do Robby any favours, that's on Luke. When they were done, well. He made a couple mistakes but nobody was right. Not until Tory. Not until Miguel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't flinch. He doesn't have to for Luke to know he landed the hit. For someone who thinks fighting is bad he's a fucker, always plays dirty. "Just following your lead, babe." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pet name lands, too. It's not like when he fights Hawk, that's all-out war, but it's not like when he spars with Sam, either, or even Tory and Miguel; as much as they don't hold back they don't actually want to do damage. Somewhere in between. Robby isn't intending to draw blood but if he does, well. No crying over spilled something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He said," Luke says, "that he needed help to get the dojo away from your dad. That the kids weren't safe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you believed him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your boyfriend almost broke my wrist," Luke says. "He dislocated your shoulder. You know what that sounds like?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wants to bare his teeth, but he's not that kid anymore, and not just because Luke scared it out of him; because Mr LaRusso gave him something else to believe in, a place to put down roots. He doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to rely on Luke. And he won't. "So you said, 'okay, I wasn't using all of this money that belongs to my dad, why don't you just take it'?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dirty pool, sure. But Luke's eyelashes only flutter a little. "Yeah, sweetheart. That's the long and short of it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you think I would come back to you?" Robby tilts his head. "You don't really want me back. We've been over this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't want you with </span>
  <em>
    <span>him,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Luke says. "With any of them. I wanted you somewhere safe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't care about that when you walked away." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sound like you're more angry that I left you than that I've been undermining your dad's business. It's not so much a business, is it? More of a cult. That's the energy I get, anyway. That's what, uh, Beth? That's what she said."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> flinch at that. Stupid to think Luke would sit on it for a rainier day. Maybe it's a good thing he's using it now; maybe that means this is it, the depths of whatever lashing out Luke's been doing since Robby said </span>
  <em>
    <span>it's over. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Maybe I am," he says. "It's not a cult I'm in." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke tips his head, thoughtful. "Yeah?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I fucked other people after you left," Robby says. Feeling it out, carefully. He's not entirely sure where he's going with this but he knows there are soft spots. He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows, </span>
  </em>
  <span>because he has them, too, in the shape of Luke's fingers. He knows he can't lie to Luke. He'll see right through it. But - he can do what Luke does. He can tell the truth. "It wasn't like it is with you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's fingers clench around the mug, almost like he didn't mean to. "Robby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Just saying. You didn't have to go behind my back. You could have just said you wanted me back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke exhales. "No, I couldn't." But he's biting his lip. "I'm fucking sorry, Robby. I don't know how else to say it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe not trying to fuck up the one stable thing I have going for me," Robby says. He doesn't say it meanly, says it more lightly that he feels it so Luke will see that he's teasing, even if he isn't, entirely. "You don't think that would be an option?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't do anything to LaRusso," Luke says. "He did enough of that on his own."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's stomach clenches. "Fair enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not. Robby hates the idea of anyone saying anything about Mr LaRusso, but it's Luke so it crashes up against the way Robby still wants to give in to him. To </span>
  <em>
    <span>yield</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke says, "I didn't know they were gonna do that to your car. Or that they were gonna hurt you. Like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But if it wasn't me it was fine? Jesus." Robby wants to sound scornful but it just comes out disappointed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Do you remember what your dad was like, Robby? It's like you don't even remember why you're here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't.” Robby’s voice cracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke lifts his head. That's a good fucking hit. Robby would be on his back on the mat, if they were in a dojo. The smile drags across his face like a knife. "Aw, baby." He puts his cup down. The ceramic chimes against the cheap plastic of the tabletop. "I just give him money. That's the relationship we have. I think I've met him twice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that why you were in town?" Robby's fingers twitch. "When you found me after I fought Hawk. Not a party."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I did go to a party," Luke says, not quite apologetic. "But you're right. I was there for a meeting."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wants to screw his eyes shut and melt into the floor, or scream and throw himself out the window, or - "We </span>
  <em>
    <span>broke up</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But you miss me." The effort shows on Luke's face. He's tired. His head probably hurts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I shouldn't," Robby says. "What do you talk about? What does he give you?" And then, as the realization dawns - "You told him about my dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This always happens. Robby thinks he's finally winning and Luke kneecaps him from behind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your dad told him," Luke says. "I clarified some details, afterwards." He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning towards Robby. "You don't understand what you looked like when you got here. I was fucking scared, Robby. I'm still scared. And your dad did that to you! Of course I was angry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sam.” Robby’s heart pounds in his ears. "That's how Sam found out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs. The movement is thoughtless and arrogant. The arrogance used to reassure Robby, even turn him on: here was someone the world couldn't touch. Now he's just flat out furious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You used me," Robby spits. "You took something I told you when I </span>
  <em>
    <span>needed you </span>
  </em>
  <span>and you used it to score </span>
  <em>
    <span>points</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." Luke shakes his head, still confident. "I did something to help you. And it helped your dad, too, didn't it? Got his priorities in order. That's why he's here now, picking you up. Right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby thinks, but the first person to break is the first loser. "How does your dad feel about it?" Robby asks. "His only begotten son investing in a strip mall karate school, with his money."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think he gives a shit? C'mon, baby. It's me and you."</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I want Miguel</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Robby thinks. He wants Miguel in his lap and Tory leaning against his shoulder. Sam and Demetri, too. Even Hawk. He put down roots, damn it. He's not just a thing Luke can pick up and throw away when he gets bored again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop doing it," Robby demands, before he can think his way out of it. "Cut the cash flow. Ask for it back." </span>
  <em>
    <span>You did it to me, you can do it to him. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That would piss Luke off too much to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby, I can't just -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can do whatever you want. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>won't</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs. "Okay," he says. "I'm right. Someone needs to stop your dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is, Robby thinks that, too. That's why he joined Miyagi-do. That's why he won't go inside Cobra Kai. He doesn't trust it and he was right not to trust it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that doesn't mean he trusts Kreese, instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His coffee is cooling. He takes a sip, like it's whiskey. It's good, easy to drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not the one to do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know. I outsourced."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Stop doing it." Robby grimaces into his cup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wanted a big gesture, baby." Luke's eyes catch Robby's, demanding, and hold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is, if this was last year, Robby would have. He'd have thought it was romantic. Part of him thinks it is, and that's the part that Luke is staring into. He has such clear eyes. It’s not fair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mouth tastes like toothpaste and coffee, the worst flavour combination on God's green earth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not," Robby says. "A big gesture. It's just money and you going behind my back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks twice. "Do you want me to tell you how much money it is?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says, "that's okay. You can tell him when you get it back." He might be shaking. Robby has not lived the kind of life in which you get to just talk about money like that, like it doesn't matter. Money matters. It's the difference between breakfast and tap water, lights on and the fridge going dark and spoiled. Robby knows this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It matters to Robby. It's not why he stayed with Luke but it was intoxicating. Not the indulgence of it but the stability. Not that it was five star takeout every night but that it was every night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Luke doesn't get it. There are lots of things about Robby that Luke doesn't get. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not going to give it back, sweetheart. Even if I asked real nice. He's not that kind of guy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're creative, </span>
  <em>
    <span>babe," </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robby says, smiling with all his teeth. "I think you can figure something out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shifts back into his chair. "Tell me about your dad," he says. "You think he's fixed? Really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn’t want this. He wants to walk out and have this be done. He's sick of Luke messing with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he wants Luke's approval, too. He wants Luke to </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's awful how much he wants it, like there's a wolf inside of him, howling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even worse, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust his fucking dad. It would be easy if he could say that. If he could just lie and say</span>
  <em>
    <span> everything is fine, Robby is overreacting like usual</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says. "He's not fixed. I wouldn't be here if he was fixed." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So?" Luke stares at him, that fixed laser-beam gaze. "Just say </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby. Let it go. The universe is kicking your dad in the teeth. He deserves it. That's justice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When's it gonna get you?" Robby doesn't mean to say it, not so quickly or so sharply. But he means it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Luke says. "Because you're not here." He shakes his head. "Look, I get it. It's your friends who are getting stuck in the middle of this karate shit, and that's unfair. I'm sorry about that. But I'm not gonna say sorry if your dad's fucking miserable for once." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby grits his teeth. "Okay," he says. "Let me put it like this. Do you want a relationship with me or do you want to fuck my dad up? You only get one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke gets to his feet. They're close together anyway so it doesn't take long, like a second, and then his hand is cupping Robby's cheek and he's looking down at Robby's face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts Robby's neck to look up like this, into Luke's eyes, but he doesn't complain. Luke is looking for something: a hint of a lie, a weakness to exploit. Like Robby's sore shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hated it when you were gone," Robby says. This is true; he doesn't have to lie. He doesn't even have to bend the truth. "It was worse than anything my dad ever did to me. You know that, right? Because I never trusted him, and I trusted you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's fingers flutter against Robby's skin. "I wish I could undo it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So listen to me," Robby says. "Listen to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>words </span>
  </em>
  <span>coming out of my </span>
  <em>
    <span>mouth</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You don't have to understand why I want it to just do it, Luke."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's lips are chapped. "That's not how this works."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not fourteen," Robby says. His neck is going to hurt when he thinks about it. He better not think about it, then. "I get to make choices."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." Robby wonders if Luke's neck hurts from looking down. Probably not. "But it's my job to look out for you, okay? I fucked it up before. But I won't do it again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes a deep breath. It rattles through him, down to the soles of his feet. He anchors them in the ground, like roots, and pulls himself to his feet. "I'm leaving. Thanks for having me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby," Luke says, digging his fingers into the side of Robby's throat, his other hand coming up to catch Robby's hip. He's fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>big</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Robby used to like that, used to feel protected by it. "Don't be like this, baby. We were just talking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wraps his fingers around Luke's wrist, the one at eye-level. "Don't touch me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke drags in a breath. Doesn't move, considering it. He wouldn't have to let go if this was last year. If this was last year, two years ago, Robby would be the one who would give in, the one who would be swayed by the strength of Luke's hands and of his possession.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it's not last year. Robby is plenty strong on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke drops his hand. "Robby," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just need to get dressed and I'll be out of your hair," Robby says, staring directly at the left shoulder of Luke's t-shirt. The fabric looks crisp and new. "If you did anything with my phone, I want it back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't," Luke says. "It's where you left it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby can't find his fucking clothes but that's fine, whatever. It's not like the ones Luke bought Robby would fit Luke anyway. He pulls on whatever he can find, grabs his phone and his backpack and the new shoes and walks out, past Luke, into the dorm room hallway. He feels Luke staring at the back of his neck. He feels - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. Okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a quad outside, with trees gone spiky and leafless, skeletons reaching their finger bones to the sky. It's cold out, brisk. Robby can feel his cheeks going pink but that's okay, he blushes easily. He doesn't want Luke to come out and see him, so he needs to keep walking. Just a little, just until he can sit down and figure out what the fuck he's going to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>One foot in front of the other. You've got this, Robby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He finds a place to sit down after his feet start to hurt; he's still on the campus, but it's quieter by </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> old building, not so many people around. He could be a freshman. You could think that, if you looked at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls out his phone. Full charge. Okay, that's something. If he thinks he's going to think, </span>
  <em>
    <span>thanks for blowing your advantage, Robby, now everything's exactly as bad as it was except you're stuck in Palo Alto</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Which he doesn't want to do, because if he thinks about that he's going to get upset, and do what Mr LaRusso always warns him against, which is letting the feelings drag him down underneath the waves of them, until he can't remember who he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The missed calls blink at him but he doesn't think there are that many, really. Not if you count. He's not counting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," he says. "Can I talk to my mom? Shannon Keene. I can't remember the ID number, I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman on the other end sounds patient and kind. He's talked to her before but he doesn't remember her name. "Hey, Robby. I'll get her for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby tucks his knees up to his chest and his backpack on the back of the bench, so he has something to lean into. It's not going to be a comfortable place to sleep - there are guardrails on the benches, obviously, because if you fell asleep here you'd ruin the look - but he could if he had to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby? Sweetheart?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, mom. It's good to talk to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is Luke there?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby feels his chest hurt. He wants to cry but he's not fucking going to cry, not here, not alone, where anyone could see him. This is how it felt when Luke dumped him, the first time, and he was alone on his mom's couch and she asked where his friends were, and he felt so bad, so stupid, because he'd let the best thing that was ever going to happen to him slip away. "Mom - He's not. I'm sorry. I know you like him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay, Robby," she says, and suddenly she sounds like his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>, calm and sure. "I'm so glad you called. I promise I won't say anything to your dad. Can you get to a bus station or the airport? I can send you money if you need it. It's gonna be okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom?" It's a lot to take in, all at once. Just a lot of words. Robby is so raw. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom sounds worried, like she's trying to keep her voice even. "Baby, it's okay. You remember that fucking asshole I dated?" </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Which one? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robby doesn't say anything. His silence probably says it for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm just saying, I know what it's like to be in a strange place fresh off a breakup. It feels like the end of the world, right? Like nobody will ever want you again."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's tongue feels huge in his mouth. "You knew?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You hadn't told me anything. I didn't want to freak you out by guessing wrong. But I had a feeling." She's careful, more than she usually is, picking the words before she says them. Robby's mom is charming, he's always known that. But this isn't charm, it's care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby curls his hands around his elbows. "Okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mom breathes out, hard. "You don't have to go back to your dad's. I'll call Amanda, I'm sure she won't mind if you head back there for a little while. Just until I can explain that I'm leaving early."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom, you can't. You're not done."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It doesn't matter," Robby's mom says. "I can sit with my feelings and sit with you, okay? You're my baby, Robby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sound like my dad. He wouldn't call me a baby though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, because he's a ratfucking piece of shit loser." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby has to smile. It's nice to hear his mom's voice and it's nice to have the familiar sound of her shit talking his dad; not so much venomous as unsurprised, expectant. "Hey." Her voice drops, soft and sincere. "I should have said something earlier, when that guy started coming over."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom," Robby protests. "I didn't tell you about it. You didn't know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were such a tough kid," Robby's mom says. "Tougher than me. Smarter, too. I figured I was wrong, that you'd get it right. But I'm your mom. We should have talked about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby closes his eyes. Thinks about it. "I'd have been so mad at you. But I would have gotten over it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You were mad at me all the time anyway," she says, but she doesn't sound mad, just fond. Regretful. "I dated some real assholes, huh?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, they sucked." Robby shrugs. "He was so nice to me. I thought you liked him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You liked him, sweetie. Anyone who made you light up like that - I sure as hell couldn't do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could," Robby says. It's the truth. "I love you being my mom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you so much," Robby's mom says. "Fuck. Hearing you sound like that, with him - it scared the crap out of me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like what?" Robby isn't sure he wants an answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sweetheart," Robby's mom says. "You know Ian, when you were seven? Left me in Vegas?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Robby says. "I was at Sid's for an extra two days. He was so mad about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I got real quiet. That's what you said when I came back. That I didn't talk so much. You're a lot like me. I'm sorry that I didn't think about all the bad parts of that, too." Her voice is soft enough that he has to strain to hear the words. He wonders if they hurt to say like they hurt to hear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It hurts to think about too much, like how you're not supposed to look at the sun, even in an eclipse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know if I can stay with Mrs LaRusso," Robby says, changing the subject. "Do you, uh. Have you talked to my dad?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom snorts. "Like he would ever tell me something important without a court order."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, okay." Sounds like Robby's dad. "Well, the whole school knows, so - he's been fucking Mr LaRusso. And Mr LaRusso moved out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom is silent for a long moment and then she laughs, her laugh when she's overwhelmed, not at all charming just a series of honking snorts. If Robby could see her she'd be bent over. "Holy shit, baby. That's the best news I've had all year."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not great for Mrs LaRusso," Robby says. "Or Sam."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Robby's mom says. "Yeah, of course. Fuck. Your fucking dad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby's mom is the only person in the world who understands Robby's feelings about his dad. Luke tries, but he's overwhelmed by the projection of his own daddy shit. Robby's mom has her own crap, of course, but it all comes back to Johnny fucking Lawrence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom sighs. "That's why you left?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He said he wouldn't fuck up my life," Robby says. "He promised."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, honey." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't want to feel stupid. "You know how much I loved living there, right? It was like -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like having a family. It's okay, baby, you can say it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He fucks everything up, mom. Everything. I said please don't take this and he did." He hates saying it like that. Like he's vulnerable and stupid and got scammed by his dad like he gets scammed by everyone else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so sorry," Robby's mom says. "Your fucking dad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." It's like a call and response, just for Robby and his mom. He missed her so much. It really was always their world, together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a bird near Robby, a sparrow. He watches it pick at crumbs near his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I need to - Luke's not my boyfriend. We broke up for real when he went to school, it's just that sometimes it doesn't stick. But I have a boyfriend. His name's Miguel. And a girlfriend. Her name's Tory. And we, like. I love them and they love me, I think. We love each other."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom starts coughing, like she's choked on her own spit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Robby's mom says. "I'm sorry, sweetie. That's - I'm not going to say it's not a surprise. But if you're happy I'm happy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're not worried? It's weird."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I love you so goddamn much, Robert Swayze Keene. You know I was in labour with you for seventeen hours? Seventeen fucking hours. By the end of it I was hallucinating. I wouldn't do that for just anybody."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiarity of the story soothes him. "I love you too, Mama."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," says Robby's mom, taking a long deep breath. "I'll call Amanda now. I want you to get an Uber to the airport or the bus station. Do you need cash?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I have my cards," Robby says. "I don't know how much the plane's gonna be."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry about that. Just get there, call me when you know. I'll pay for it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seventeen hours, honey. Don't worry about Amanda. She knows your dad doesn't have shit to do with you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"See you soon," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is hard to be alone in the crisp winter air. Robby's mom doesn't make things better, really, but he wants to be with her. She always smells really good. When he's with her it feels like nothing can touch them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously that is not true. But it feels like it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby should call his friends. He should call his boyfriend and/or his girlfriend. He should probably call his dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't want to. He isn't safe yet, part of him knows that. He doesn't want to talk to Tory or Miguel until this whole thing can't touch them anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke wouldn't have touched Kreese if it wasn't for Robby. If Kreese hadn't - things would be better, now. Maybe Robby's dad would still have fucked everything up. But it would be different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should get out of here. He has places to be. His eyes hurt and his mouth is dry. He's hungry, actually. He should get something to eat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shouldn't stay still. That's not a good thing to do, not when he has to move. He wishes there was somewhere to do kata. He wishes Sam wasn't mad at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's not going back to Mrs LaRusso's house, not even if his mom thinks it's okay. He can't ask that of her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can go back to Miguel's. Or Tory's, probably. Tory's not as mad at him, so probably Tory's would be better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to go back to his mom's apartment, even though the power's probably out and the eviction notice is probably still on the door. He wants to curl back up on the couch and eat pizza and get absolutely baked and then have his mom pet his hair and offer him a glass of wine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bell chimes. Across the campus doors open, people flooding out of the buildings. Robby flinches by accident at the overwhelming depth of sound. It feels like being overcome, again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, kid." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up at the familiar voice. Luke is standing in front of him, in jeans and a big sweater, hair combed neatly, freshly shaved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby almost snarls. He has to yank himself back into his body with all the discipline Mr LaRusso taught him. Has to remind himself he doesn't want to do that: it's not worth his sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Luke looks different. His body language is open, submissive. He has his hands open and empty. He's not all up in Robby's space. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a big campus," Luke says. "I mean, it is. But not when you know what you're looking for. Who." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm calling an Uber," Robby says. He shows Luke the app on his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can you just - five minutes, Robby. Okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs and pulls his backpack into his lap, like a shield. Gestures to the empty slot in the bench next to him, in between the angry bars of the hostile architecture. "I'm setting a timer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll be quick." Luke takes the seat, doesn't reach over. Just flexes his hands against his thighs. "I called him," he says. "I couldn't get the money back, but I told him there wouldn't be any more. I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. "Yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out for Robby but is holding himself back. "I need to call in the favour."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus." Robby holds the rest of it behind his teeth. "You know what I needed the name for? What that guy was doing? It was </span>
  <em>
    <span>revenge porn, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke. Revenge porn that counts as child porn. I did the fucking universe a favour, I don't owe you shit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he does, because he agreed to terms. Luke knows it, he knows it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke looks down at Robby's hands, at the barrier between them. "Will and I aren't friends, Robby. If we had been I wouldn't have given you the information."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're unbelievable," Robby spits, so harshly he has to double check that nobody around them is startled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke stretches his long legs out in front of him. "Love you too, baby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just tell me what you want." Robby's jaw aches from clenching. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke twitches. He looks like he wants to say something like he normally would, remind Robby to be polite, but he holds it back, keeps his voice careful, pleasant. "I have class tonight. Stay until tomorrow and I'll go back with you. Clean up my mess."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks back at the sparrow, hopping across the concrete. "What makes you think I want your help?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke cocks his head. "I don't think you do. I think I owe it to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Robby says. "But no more weird shit. And you better tell your boyfriend."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's just gonna get upset," Luke says, making a face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I hope he dumps a drink on your head," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke laughs, long and loud. Artificial. "Welcome back, Swayze."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't go back to Luke's room. It would be weird without Luke in it, and it would be weird with Luke in it, too. He texts his mom, tells her he'll be back tomorrow instead. She texts him back </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you sure</span>
  </em>
  <span> and probably thinks he's back with Luke. So that feels shitty, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets a coffee and a muffin in a cafe full of students, stares at all the texts on his phone. Fuck it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulls his Spanish homework out of his backpack. Demetri left him a colour coded list of things to do, which was nice of him. He wonders if Demetri has texted to see if he's okay or if Demetri is following Sam's lead. It's fucking shitty, what Robby's doing, ignoring them. He didn't use to have this many people who cared about him and it's scary now that they're all pressing down on him. There are so many people who care about him, and he trusted </span>
  <em>
    <span>Luke</span>
  </em>
  <span> of all people, and now he's let all of them down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he can do the stupid highlighted section of the handout. Demetri will be squeaking like a hamster but maybe he will squeak </span>
  <em>
    <span>less</span>
  </em>
  <span> like a hamster if Robby emails him his paragraphs on time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby has seven hundred bucks in a bank account. Luke helped him set it up when he was a kid, so he wouldn't have to keep all his money in cash hidden under his mom's couch; when he got his real job at LaRusso Auto he got to start putting money in it for real. Then he got to start paying rent, so it disappeared pretty much immediately, but it had been nice for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he doesn't help with rent but he does have car payments and he only works twice a week. Fuck. Robby's supposed to be at work tonight. Should he call in sick?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mrs LaRusso probably knows. Sam's got to have told her something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, short notice is better than no notice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gets Sheila on the phone, fakes a cough. He doesn't think she buys it but he's a model employee, aside from the busted car and the time he almost burned the showroom down. She tells him to have some chicken soup.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don't talk about Mr and Mrs LaRusso. Robby's sure the guys are having a field day with it - they love shit talk more than anything - but Robby would probably punch Howie if he said the wrong thing so it's for the best he's not there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hangs up and eats his muffin and nurses his coffee, just like all the other college kids. He's not Luke and he can't just throw money around, and he shouldn't act like he can. He can take the Caltrain to the airport and then he'll be able to get back to LA. He really doesn't owe Luke anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's not true. He owes Luke a lot of things. He doesn't like Luke and he'd be better off without a lot of them, but Robby owes Luke. Just like Luke owes him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, if Robby doesn't keep an eye on him, who's to say he won't get pissed off and go back to whatever he was doing with Kreese? If Kreese's money is Luke's mess then Luke is Robby's.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't love that, but here he is, stuck with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should call his fucking dad. Even if he just said </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you</span>
  </em>
  <span>, again. He probably should say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry I guess thinking with my dick is hereditary.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that his dick's been involved here. Just his fucking daddy issues.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. It's not Robby's dad's fault Robby's ex is a possessive psycho taking out his insecurity issues on Robby's friends and family. Robby didn't have to call Luke; he could have gone to Tory's or Sam's. Maybe even Demetri's, in a pinch. Miguel would have let him in if he asked, as long as he did ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby just fucking freaked out and went running. Like he forgot that he was safe where he was and the lizard brain took over and said </span>
  <em>
    <span>Luke</span>
  </em>
  <span>, even though Luke is the opposite of safe and everything proves it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wishes he had his skateboard. That would be real lizard brain shit. Maybe he could break his wrist and then he'd really be able to avoid his problems.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Enough vacation, Robby. Get it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waits by the building where Luke said he had class. People are flooding out; kids in backpacks, puffer vests, jeans and sneakers. He scans the crowd for that bright blond head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's in with a knot of guys, all of them dressed the same, laughing. He's the one talking and all of them are hanging on his words. It used to piss Robby off that Luke could do that - be screaming at Robby one second and perfectly charming with his friends the next - but now it's just information, settling into the pit of his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He melts into the crowd. He's good at this part; he was doing this kind of petty crime before he ever met Luke. He's not here to pick anyone's pocket. Just not yell his hello quite yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's easy to watch Luke work. Robby's mom does it too. When she talks to you it's like you're the most interesting person in the world. Robby's not as good. He can hang, sure, but it always feels a little fake, like the aftertaste of too many free Splenda packets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's got a smile for all his friends, a back slap, jokes. Robby searches his face for the cracks in the facade, the man who looked at Robby and begged him to stay. He doesn't know what he's looking for. Would it be better if Luke's fragility lingered? If Robby could find the kind Luke, the one he used to think of as the real Luke, would it be easier? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's early afternoon. The sun is peeking through thick cloud. It's threatened to drizzle on and off but never committed. The tips of Robby's ears are cold but not that cold. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You're being a creep, Keene.</span>
  </em>
  <span> That's Luke's voice in his head, gently teasing. Luke would unwind the scarf around his neck and wrap it around Robby's, say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>stop being a popsicle, baby. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby follows them for a while, watching guys peel off the group until it's just Luke and a couple guys in big jackets. They stop outside a big building and Luke shakes his head, says, "Go on ahead." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby leans against the wall, waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke threads his way through the crowd and then he's right there, in front of Robby. He has a backpack slung over his shoulder and his scarf is trailing down past his shoulder. "You coming in for lunch? I'll swipe you in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke sighs. "I'm going to be gone all weekend." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't ask you to." Robby jams his hands in his pockets. "I don't want to pretend for your friends. I'm too angry for it to work."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke doesn't protest. That's against type. "Okay," he says. "Wait here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby waits. Not for very long, and then Luke is there, holding out a sandwich wrapped in plastic. "Here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their fingers don't touch. Robby says, "Thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke nods. "If you want to go back to the suite I can give you my key."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "I'll wait for you. I have homework to do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks. "Spanish? You want me to look at it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe later." Robby curls his fingers around his sandwich, doesn't even look down to check what's in it. "When are we leaving?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's mouth twists but he doesn't scold Robby. "I got us on the one pm tomorrow. Is that okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels so fucking strange to be on the other end of it, not the one trying to prove himself but the one being impressed. Robby says, "LAX by five?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Luke's fingers twitch at his sides but he doesn't move. Good. Robby doesn't want to touch him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go back to your friends," Robby says. "I'll find you later."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby," Luke sighs. It's the intimacy of the irritation that makes Robby's skin feel hot and tight: like Luke knows Robby better than Robby knows himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites his lip. Before he can think better of it he blurts out, "Did you think I wanted it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Luke sighs again and comes to Robby's side, shoulder against the brick, a body's width in between them. "I-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you thought it was the right thing to do," Robby doesn’t disguise his scorn. "But did you think I would have, like, thanked you for it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke studies his face, thoughtful. Makes a decision. "Yeah," he says. "But only after. If this was last year I'd have told you first." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he isn't lying. Robby wants to think he can tell now, that at least he got something out of two years together. But who knows? It's a brand new world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby puts his face into the wall, just for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Luke stepping closer, the ripple of his body in the air beside Robby - but he doesn't reach out, doesn't touch Robby. It's like he's scared of what Robby might do, like it </span>
  <em>
    <span>counts</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That's a fucking first. "Why does it matter?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It doesn't," Robby tells the brick. His nose is cold. "I was just wondering."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You've never had a strong stomach," Luke says, gently. "Even before we got together, when you were so prickly. You still hated that there were consequences. That sometimes people got hurt, even if they deserved it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Kinda embarrassing, huh?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs. "I liked it. Total pain in my ass, obviously, but being around you always makes me feel like a better person."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Doesn't make you act like one." Robby turns away from the wall, rests the back of his head against it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke is close to him. Close like people are when they make out in alleyways. Close like Luke is when he wants Robby to feel better, or do what he wants. "I'm sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby steps sideways. "You're sorry you got caught." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke cocks his head. "Yes." His voice softens as his gaze levels out. "I'm sorry that you were hurt. I really wanted to be a safe place for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites the inside of his mouth, hard. "I'll see you later," he says. "Thanks for the sandwich."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know where he's going. He just starts walking, and ends up outside a library. There's a little patch of grass and some trees. Maybe the building is historic but it just looks ugly to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sits down at the base of what looks like a willow and unwraps his sandwich. He's tempted to toss it but if he was going to he'd have done it where Luke could see him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ham and cheese, with a thin leaf of lettuce pressed between white bread: this is Robby's ancestral food. Luke wouldn't think of that in a flattering way, but Robby's instincts aren't adventurous. They're whatever is there, but particularly whatever Robby's mom could make one handed while he sat on her hip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checks his phone while he eats. It's three thirty. School's out. Not that Tory cares.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Tor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is brittle, relieved. "You coming home yet?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's the karate gang war?" He doesn't know why he's stalling. It's not like he thinks she's going to blame him. She knows Luke's shit isn't his responsibility. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well: if he can't even believe that, he doesn't know how he can expect it from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"S'fine," she says. "Hawk and Demetri got into it a little at lunch. Your girl had to pull them off each other."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christ. "I leave for three days," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice is light, but tightly-wound. "It'll teach you," she says. "We miss you, you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know." It's not nothing for her to say it, and that pushes him forward, past his common sense saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>don't scare her away, she's gonna leave you like everyone else. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Remember what we talked about last night?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her voice gets sharp, brittle. "Yeah. You figure it out?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby swallows. "I'm sorry, Tor. It's so fucked up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He did it? Jesus, Robby, please tell me you're out of there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby, what the hell!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tomorrow," Robby says, apologetic. "He said, uh, he was gonna come and talk to that guy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's coming back with you?" Tory's voice hovers at the edge of shrill. She drags in a long breath. "Robby, you know I'm crazy, can you please tell me you're not fucking him?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Been holding onto that one for a minute?" He doesn't want to think about it. He wants it to be a stupid thing for her to have said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby," she says, and her voice cracks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," he says. "No, I haven't." He wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> but it's not an</span>
  <em>
    <span> of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He could have done it. There's a part of him that thinks he still might.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She breathes out, hard. "Honestly, get fucked, Robby." He can see the way she'd be balling up her fists. If Miguel was there he'd have his hand on her shoulder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel. God. He misses Miguel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought that's what you didn't want me to do." He keeps his face straight, even though she can't see it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs, breathless, furious. "God. I'm glad we're both fucked up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't tell Diaz," Robby says. "I - I should tell him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tell him what, exactly? Because I'm still in the dark too, Robby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a breath and spills his guts. At least here there's a tree to shield him from any inquisitive college kids. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he says it out loud it sounds ridiculous; Robby's ex gave a bunch of money to his dad's old karate teacher to sabotage Robby's dad's karate business. Robby called his ex out and now he's going to try to get the money back. Maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory says, "Did he think you'd just go back to him? Like, I don't think things through either, but fuck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know," Robby says, honestly. "I don't think he knew either. I think he was just mad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus," Tory says. He imagines her biting her lip, worrying at it. "You gotta come home, Swayze. You know Palo Alto is all vampires."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll get some garlic," Robby says. "I'll wear it around my neck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs. Just a little laugh, but enough to warm his chest. Between the two of them, they need Miguel to say all that feelings shit. It's kind of nice to not have to say it at all. "Do you have to go?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not yet," Robby says. "Do you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay. I can stay on the line."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They talk about nothing for a long time. It feels good. There’s nobody he can be quiet with like Tory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam has not texted Robby since she told him to get fucked. That's Sam: she's probably freaking out about it. He knows her well enough to know that she does this. Feels too much, acts on it, feels like she's fucked everything up. See? You can be like Robby </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> be rich. It's not just a child of single moms thing. (And Miguel doesn't do it, so.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Obviously, the other option is that Sam is still fucking furious with Robby, and doesn't want to be his friend, and is blaming him for the breakdown of her parents' marriage. And that would suck a lot, and also, maybe, Robby would deserve it. So he's trying not to think about that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he's just scrolling back through their texts, pretending to be getting information for the fucking Spanish project instead of just missing his best friend. He really is, god, so much happier now that they're friends. Now that she's not his dream girl and the solution to all his problems and a person he could never let down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that it means he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to let her down. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could do this the long way. Text Aisha, or Demetri. But sometimes Robby's dad is right. No mercy.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i'll be home tomorrow. can i come over?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Her reply is immediate, which means he was right, and she's been waiting. </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes!!! do u want me to call?? where tf are u miguel said palo alto?!! i'm so sorry for freaking out on you i know your dad's not your fault at all and my dad is also not your fault and my mom says if you want to come back to the guest house you can</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, right after, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry that's a lot of words but you should REPLY TO YOUR MESSAGES</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's brain has to take a second to parse it all, but he knows she is counting the seconds from the middle of her enormous princess bed, so he just says the thing that's most important. </span>
  <em>
    <span>love you too. can't talk rn but will see you soon. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And then, because it is important, too, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry abt my fuckin dad.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He can't talk to Sam on the phone because if he talks to Sam on the phone he will start crying and then he will be fucking useless. Just like how he can't call Miguel, even though he wants to call Miguel. He really wants to call Miguel. But if he calls Miguel then he'll remember that he isn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>with </span>
  </em>
  <span>Miguel, and that will be overwhelming and wrong, a mistake Robby chose to make and keep making. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he puts his phone back in his pocket and gets up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott offers him a bottle of Fireball as soon as he steps through the door of the suite. "Hey, little dude."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Scottie." Robby takes a swig and lets Scott half-hug him. "Little early, isn't it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Eh," Scott says. "I'm done for the week, so it's the weekend. You want pizza? We're getting pizza. Luke won't have any, obviously but that doesn't mean we can't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh, sure. I'm gonna put my stuff away." He drops his backpack just inside Luke's door. Doesn't look at the bed, still messed up from when they slept in it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. He might as well go and make it, since he's here anyway. Luke's never made a bed in his life. Robby's hands itch. He wants something to be neat and well-organized and put together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad would say,</span>
  <em>
    <span> are you fuckin' kidding,</span>
  </em>
  <span> but Robby's dad is one to talk, because Robby's dad's bedroom is worse than Robby's and Robby's looks like a tornado hit it, except for the plants. His </span>
  <em>
    <span>plants. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shit. He wasn't thinking about them, and now he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> thinking about them. Three days isn't that long. They'll be fine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like Robby's dad would say, survival of the fittest. He'd say it about Robby, though. Not some bonsai.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby mantles his shoulders and goes back into the living room, where Scott is pouring the Fireball into Coke cans and MTV is on, one of those weird talking head shows that are maybe reality maybe not, but you're not paying enough attention to care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shows up by the time Robby is buzzed, beginning to feel it but not out of control, and they're halfway through an extra large meat lover's, Mike's not back, which is good because Robby would hate having to be nice to him, but he would feel weird if he wasn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's lying on the couch and Scott's in the armchair. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke raises one eyebrow and hands Scott a twenty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott rolls his eyes but takes it. "You have to eat one, then." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Outside my eating window," Luke says, smug. He looks at Robby but doesn't make a move towards him. That's different. Maybe it's good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls up into a seat. "Yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Luke looks at him carefully. "Are you packed, baby?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby stills. It wouldn't be the first time Luke's kicked him out but it would be a dick move to do it now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it shows on his face because Luke says, saccharine-sweet, "In case you want to sleep in tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aw, you're leaving?" Scott sounds genuinely dismayed. He's drunk enough that it's probably sincere, but also he's just like that. Like a big Doberman or something. "You're easily the best of Luke's overnight guests." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs, can't help it. Maybe there's an edge to it but he genuinely isn't bitter, and that's surprising, kind of endearing. "I'm sure it's good company," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott laughs back. "Yeah, well." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke says, "Both of you are assholes, just so you know." But he takes the Fireball from the table and takes a long drink, not screwing up his face at all even when the taste hits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They get drunk and switch to TLC. Scott vacates the armchair so Luke can have it, and Robby hooks his feet over Scott's thighs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mike comes in to tell them there's a party, and then he sighs and says, "Cath says Trip thinks maybe you should skip it, Malone." Luke doesn't flinch, just nods. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it's just the two of them, Robby and Luke, in the bright light and empties. Robby wants to ask about Trip but he doesn't, really. He doesn't want to get involved. It's Luke's business and Robby isn't that anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wanna go to bed?" Luke asks. None of the flirtation he'd usually offer, just a thoughtful question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't, but he's drunk and almost flew home by himself, so maybe he should take the l and turn in early. "Yeah. You wanna brush your teeth first or should I shower?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can shower." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's this whole world that they built, the two of them, together. Robby doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to throw it away. For so long it was his; for so long he didn't have anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After he showers Robby curls up on his side of the bed. There's enough room for four of them in here, but it doesn't feel like enough space. Not like at home, where even in his tiny bed he reaches for Tory and Miguel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's lying on his back, on the far side of the bed. They aren't close to touching but the proximity crawls up Robby's spine anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Part of Robby wants to just say</span>
  <em>
    <span> fuck, I'm sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span> and have it all go away. It's a tiny part, barely anything. Easy to shut down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What is it about him?" Luke’s voice rasps through the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's more </span>
  <em>
    <span>what isn't it about you,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Robby says. "And I could write you a scholarship essay on that, but we could just start with, isn't trying to undermine my primary caregiver." Gross. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Primary caregiver. Parent slash guardian.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you don't believe me," Luke says, calmly, "but I was trying to help you. And I wouldn't be going back with you if I didn't think I could help you again." </span>
  <em>
    <span>Does he do that for you? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Robby can feel it ramping up under his skin: the desire to prove Luke wrong, to explain that he's better now, that he doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>need him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, no. Fuck this." Robby sits up. The blanket pools around his waist. He thinks he must be blinking like an owl in the moonlight. "We're not doing this. There's gotta be like, a basketball court or something around here. Somewhere empty."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke turns his head to the side, so his cheek is against the pillow and his eyes are on Robby, unblinking. "What do you want?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to show you," Robby says. "You're not going to get it, but I want to show you, anyway." He crawls out of the bed, has to go over Luke's legs to do it. He finds a hoodie under the desk and wriggles into it. "C'mon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks at him, but this is a brave new world now, where Robby takes the lead, and he can't put that snake back in the basket. He gets up and finds his own jacket. Neither of them hit the lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hall light is blinding, so fucking bright; that kind of flat light they put in dorms to make all the puke even worse and make your hangover really hit. Luke doesn't hold Robby's hand but he keeps an eye on his pace, so he isn't leaving Robby in the dust with those huge long legs, and then they're outside in the cool biting air, and Robby's kneecaps are going to fall off. It's fucking winter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ready to give up?" Luke asks. He looks so out of place: sports jacket and slides, perfect hair perfectly mussed. It's the expression that's wrong, that he looks like he's confused and a little worried and entirely on the wrong foot. That's not what Luke is supposed to look like. But he does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah," Robby says, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself and shiver, and the even deeper urge to step closer and let Luke's arms wrap around him, let himself be herded inside. "Just need like, a flat surface. If you have a suspended tree trunk, that would be great, too. But a little flat square is fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a lawn, which Robby vetoes because he doesn't want to get his socks wet with dew, but then a basketball court, empty in the moonlight. They're in the witching hour between the late night games and the drunk after-party mess arounds, so it's just the two of them on the pavement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby toes his shoes off and bows to the court. Not the same thing, but close enough, maybe. "You're wrong," he says. "When you say it's about violence. It isn't. That's my dad's karate, but it isn't even my dad's karate, not really." He knows this, he realizes, because he knows Miguel. Miguel is fierce but he's reserved, too; maybe better than Robby, even, he knows what it is to have mercy. Otherwise, how would they have ever kissed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shivers on the courtside. "Make your point, Robby, it's freezing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just watch," Robby says. "It won't take that long."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kata is like breathing. It isn't easy; he's surfed and gone under enough times to know that you should never take air for granted. But it's instinct. It's what Robby knows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The air is here, alive and full. Even though there's nobody around there's everything: the vibrations of the building, the cool night air resting on Robby's shoulders. The warmth of Luke right over there. The feeling in Robby's chest, that endless ache. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't have Sam but he doesn't need Sam. The kata is fun to do with a partner, and better in terms of demonstration, but you can do it just as well alone, like when Mr LaRusso yanked Robby up on that tree in the middle of nowhere. It would be nice if Sam were here but she isn't; the sound of his own heartbeat drowns anything else out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's rusty. He's been still and also drunk for the past three days; it isn't so much wrong as stiff, like pins-and-needles, when you remember that you have a limb and that it needs to move. He feels himself snap into place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes the meditative aspect of karate more seriously than anyone else from either dojo, except Mr LaRusso. Demetri doesn't shut up long enough for it to land for him, even though he'd probably like it if it would; Sam sees it as a tool, something to be reached for when you need clarity. For Robby - and Mr LaRusso - it's kind of the whole thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To be able to defend is important. Robby knows that, and cherishes it. And, yes: to attack is an aspect of that. But it's all an extension of that most vital thing, the breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels himself ripple through the positions, muscles slowly warming, the familiar tension of asking your body for something and allowing it to respond. He can feel Luke's eyes on him but they don't matter; they are as consequential as the wind, as the chill of the winter air.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He builds to the peak position - one hand on the ground suspending the rest of him, power moving from the earth all the way to his toes. It feels fucking good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Whoa," Luke says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby folds back down, takes a bow. "See?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke leans back into his hands. "Why can't you just do that? Not the other stuff?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs and wipes his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Crosses the moonlit court so he can sit next to Luke. "It wouldn't work," he says. He doesn't want to explain to Luke that it's like how a tree has roots: you can't have one without the other. The kata without the practice. Luke won't get it. Robby knows that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke sighs. "It was cool," he says. "I didn't know you could do all that stuff."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby thinks: </span>
  <em>
    <span>you never looked. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He says, "Well, I couldn't, before." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby wakes to the sound of Luke's alarm, a shrill beep beep beep. Luke is sitting up at the head of the bed, looking over at him with a cool, quiet expression. "Morning."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Morning," Robby yawns. It feels kind of awful, if he's honest. Like the end of the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he's the one who wouldn't let things slide. So he's the one blowing the horn at Ragnarok. C'mon in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They go for breakfast. It feels different, like moving through molasses. Luke is tentative, cautious. Not assured like he used to be, like now he might hurt Robby if he said the wrong thing. But that Robby might hurt him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not good. It isn't. But something about it curls in Robby's belly, a sick kind of satisfaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He lets himself sit and watch Luke. Lets himself be quiet, not because he doesn't want to provoke Luke but because he's waiting, seeing if the silence will push him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke doesn't look fazed. He's good at that, Robby knows that. He knows how to be somewhere he isn't wanted. It's different to look at Luke like this. To think maybe he is a broken thing, like Robby, instead of a brighter star.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby eats his eggs and drinks his coffee. He lets Luke pay and says </span>
  <em>
    <span>thank you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> the way that used to make Luke flush, just a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke smiles, but it's not the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flight is uneventful. Luke reads Robby's Spanish assignment for him and corrects his grammar, then tries to talk to him in Spanish the whole flight, so Robby just puts his headphones on and turns the Misfits up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's always nice to have Luke beside him, to be seen with Luke, but Robby's mind is racing ahead to the airport, to Reseda. He never thought much of Reseda, before. It was just where his shitty dad lived. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke is watching him. His eyes are careful and bright. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Camry is waiting at passenger pickup. Tory's outline is obscured but familiar; she's smiling her bright sharp toothed smile. She reaches across the passenger seat to pop the door open. "Welcome back, babe."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans in to kiss her cheek. She's soft and smells like men's deodorant. "Thanks, honey," he drawls, like a 50s husband. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you get me anything?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tosses her a pack of gum. "Your favourite."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aw," she says, wrinkling her nose. "I was hoping for Peter Thiel's head."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gotta go get that one yourself," Robby says. "Non violence, remember?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolls her eyes. "Whatever."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke clears his throat. "Hello, Victoria," he says drily. "Nice to see you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, Lucas," Tory says, drawing out the vowels. She tilts her chin at Robby, just the tiniest bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs and nods, reaching out to tangle his fingers in her hair. "Missed you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She kisses him. It's fire from the get-go, what you see is what you get with Tory Nichols. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He bites the inside of her lip, just a little, and lets go. "Thanks for the pickup."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome," she says, mouth red, eyes bright. "I was stuck in traffic for so long, it's gonna be even worse on the way out of here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The traffic is pretty bad. Robby sits in the front with his backpack against his shins and Luke sprawls out in the backseat, eyes glittering. Tory's phone is playing r&amp;b through the car radio, something bouncy and Spanish with a throbbing beat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're being creepy," she murmurs, like she isn't sneaking glances at him out of the corner of her eye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugs, leans back in his seat. "Just like looking at you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Luke watching them. "You need directions?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's good." Robby shouldn't say it like that, jump in like she needs him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn't snap, though, just curls her fingers around the wheel. Her knuckles are white. Now that he's looking he can see that she's favouring her right shoulder. There's going to be more when she stands up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Luke's here and Luke is a snake of his own. Not that he's acting like one. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's just here. Pleasant, normal. Charming, even. He doesn't push into Robby and Tory's conversation; no pissing on territory from any of them. Just Luke, thoughtful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby knows Luke enough to know that that kind of quiet isn't what it looks like, but things are different enough - new enough - that he thinks, well, maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a long drive to Calabasas with all the traffic, but it's easier because Tory is right there, and they're in her car that smells like her, and there's a McDonalds wrapper under Robby's backpack. Even though the McMansions make Robby want to sit up straight and bare his teeth he's reminded of who he is, where he is. He can feel the tension; he's not naive. But Tory isn't pushing and that means things will be okay, if she cares enough now to wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They mostly talk about music. Tory likes Hole, because she's a cliche; Luke likes being pretentious. They can talk to each other while Robby rolls his eyes and thanks god for real punk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All too soon they're at the familiar stupid gate with the stupid cherubs; Luke easing his way out of Tory's car gracefully, like it doesn't offend him to be seen in it. He slings his bag over his shoulder and Robby stares, watching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You coming in?" Luke asks, resting his elbow on Robby's rolled-down window. He's wry, not aggressive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels wrong. It feels like Robby is just waiting for Luke to grab his shoulder and say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But even if he did that, Robby wouldn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not tonight," Robby says. It's sentiment, maybe, but he reaches out anyway for Luke's wrist, curls his fingers around it and squeezes tight. "I'll call you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll call you," Luke says. Just a flicker of the old bravado, but he draws Robby's hand to his mouth to kiss it. "Okay. Sleep tight, kid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory watches him go, mouth a tight thin line. "Hey," she murmurs. "You good?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good as it's gonna get," Robby offers. He tilts his head, a question.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's her turn to nod, so he can kiss her. This time not showing off, just for them. It's funny that they're so sweet with each other. Robby isn't like this with anybody else, not even Miguel. Miguel he wants to protect, but with Tory it's like they're moving carefully because they're both surrounded by broken glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby kind of thought he might be gay for a while, after Luke but before Sam. It felt like that would be complicated but at least it would be earned. At least he'd have something left over from Luke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But other guys weren't the same, and girls made sense to him. Sam made sense to him. (At the time.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Labels have never been that great for Robby, anyway. He doesn't wear them well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory flicks her eyes from the dash to Robby. "You wanna -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." He needs to see Miguel. Like, has to. It feels overwhelming, prickling underneath his skin. Like how it felt when he had to get out of LA, but this is better because it's not running </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span> it's running </span>
  <em>
    <span>to.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Thank you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tilts her head. The sun is falling and the light's changed a little, the shadows starting to cross her face. "Please don't do that again," she says. "Not without telling someone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes a breath. It's not like Luke, or his dad; not even like Sam, really. It isn't that Robby's absence means a missing possession, something someone wanted to use. That Robby was supposed to belong to someone and took himself out of the picture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's like: she was worried about him. That's it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he had fucked things up before he did go, even though everyone was mad at him and he deserved it. They were still worried. They still missed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I couldn't stay," he says. "I just. I couldn't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She nods. "We'd have gone with you," she says. "I mean, maybe not to Palo Alto. But somewhere."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You sound like Diaz," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She says, "It freaked me out. Like, a lot." She isn't looking at him, fingers loose around the wheel. "Diaz was like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe he won't come back</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>oh that's bullshit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but I - I don't know. It just really freaked me out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. "Tor," he begins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't," she snaps. "I hate that shit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." But he reaches out for her anyway, and she tangles her fingers up in his. He imagines that he can feel her pulse against his fingertips, that there is something leaping between the two of them: theirs. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tory pulls up outside her mom's apartment. Robby is grateful, even though he didn't ask, and was kind of prepared for the alternative: Robby's dad's apartment, opposite where Miguel lives. Robby should have said he would stay with Luke, or he should call Sam and tell her he wants to move back into the big house. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't, </span>
  </em>
  <span>is the thing. He doesn't want to owe anybody anything. He doesn't want any of the complications anymore. He just wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tory and Miguel. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Which is stupid. There are plenty of complications. The first time Robby really met Miguel he dislocated Robby's shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn't feel like that though. It feels like Robby's stopped running, like he's finally somewhere safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My mom's at work," Tory says. "But it's fine, she's not going to freak out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby should call his mom. He should say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm back, I love you.</span>
  </em>
  <span> But he still feels frayed. He just wants - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's just the two of them on the sidewalk, Tory in her ripped jeans and Robby in the clothes Luke bought him, and Robby is sparking up with all this fucked-up shit inside him and </span>
  <em>
    <span>she came to get him</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it matters to him, suddenly, enormously, and he is crossing the distance between them to rest his hands on her waist and she is laughing, just a little, against his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Missed you too," she murmurs, curling the back of her hand around his neck, drawing him in. "Thanks for not fucking your ex." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wasn't close," Robby says, kissing her once, then again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miguel's inside," she says, pulling back, but her hand presses hard against his cheek, pulse fluttering against his skin. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>inside. It’s a flash of open door, Tory’s hand on Robby’s back, and then -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm so fucking mad at you," Miguel says, panting, the words jagged and spiky with exertion. "So mad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says, kissing his neck, mouthing at the line of his throat, feeling Miguel's pulse jump against his tongue. "Keep telling me about it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory leans back against the kitchen counter.  She watches them with this flat gaze, a little bit hot but mostly assessing, like she's next in line for a fight. "I'm right here, boys." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They are in Tory's mom's apartment. Tory opened the door and Miguel was there, waiting, waiting </span>
  <em>
    <span>for Robby</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and Robby couldn't help it, couldn't not fling himself forward like he would behind a fist; and Miguel caught him, like he always does, like he did even before they were anything, when Robby was a fist and Miguel was a block, and then Miguel was a kick and Robby was a feint, and everything made sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels electric, unreal. Like Robby's stepped into another universe where everything is going to be okay. Where they can just all be here, in the cramped little kitchen, between the appliances and the countertops and the bowl with a single blackening banana in the middle of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel is saying Robby's name like he's pissed off but his fingers are scrabbling at Robby's chest, holding tight. "You motherfucker," he says, heel of his hand thumping against Robby's breastbone. "I fucking hate you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says. He skims his palms up under Miguel's t shirt, where his skin is smooth and hot. Miguel shivers, but not away from him, into him. "You want me to leave?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel surges forward, kissing him. His mouth is hot and wet. "Fuck you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A whistle cuts the air. Robby jerks his head around to see Tory pulling her fingers from her lips. "Boys," she says, harder this time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby backs off, reading between the lines. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Don't do something you'll feel bad about. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks so fucking good though. Lean and strong, his eyes stuck on Robby like they were like the first time they fought, and all the times after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tory?" Miguel asks. Robby wants to kiss him again, wants to crawl inside his skin and never come out again. Jesus, Robby. Settle down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory says, "You heard me, Miguel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel laughs, breathless, on the edge of hysterical. "You're the smart one now, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who's saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>?" Tory asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Snake shit," Robby says, and he leans back against Tory's mom's fridge and drags his eyes up Tory, from her Doc Martens to the rips in her jeans, to the flannel around her, to her bright face. "You missed me when I was gone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory says, "You wanna make it a fight? Be my guest."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This is why Tory is Robby's person. This is why he came here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam would pet his hair. She would let him nap on her shoulder and they'd make samores. It would be nice. Robby would feel safe and cared for and protected. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Robby was going to do that he'd go back to Palo Alto. He wouldn't have left in the first place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby isn't a soft thing. He's sharp. He earned that and he doesn't want to give it up. "Nah," he says. "But I could go for a drink."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks at him. He's a person's width away, next to the microwave. "You smell," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "What the fuck? You think you're a werewolf now?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel rolls his eyes. "Come on, dude." It doesn't look </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span> on Miguel, the irritation, the sharpness, but it doesn't look </span>
  <em>
    <span>bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> either. It reminds Robby of how they met, that Miguel's bled enough times to know what it feels like. Even if Robby could protect him from anything, everything, he'd just claw his way out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wonders if Luke thought of him like that. He liked it when Robby snapped, but only the right way. Only when he came to heel, after.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't want Miguel to heel. He likes Miguel where he is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He dressed you," Tory says. "You don't dress like this on your own." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby raises his fingers to the collar of the cashmere sweater. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Point</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Okay." He reaches down for the hem of the sweater, pulls it up and over his head. "Better?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's cold in here. It's winter. He doesn't flinch, just drapes his shirt and his sweater over his arm and grins.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Keep your clothes on," Miguel says, drily. "Seth'll be home any minute."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls his eyes. "Fine." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory breathes out and steps in between them, carefully, calmly. One hand on Robby's chest, the other on Miguel's. Robby knows that move; he's used it enough times that it's second nature. "Diaz, he has something he needs to tell you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck, Robby does.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory and Miguel sit on the couch. Robby doesn't want to pace but he doesn't want to be jammed in the middle of them, either, so he rolls his shoulderblades down his back and sits cross-legged in front of them, on the other side of the coffee table with his back to Tory's mom's tv. Tory did give him a beer, at least. He's picking at the label because that's easier than meeting Miguel's deep brown eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't fuck him," Robby says. That's the easy thing to lead with. "Also, it's kind of fucked that you got mad at me but not Tory even though we </span>
  <em>
    <span>both</span>
  </em>
  <span> had sex behind your back. You need two people for that, last time I checked. Well, at least two people."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory's fingers drum across her knee, heavy. "Oh, he's still mad. I’m also still mad, by the way. I’ll get over it, but I’m mad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was a shitty thing to do," Miguel says, mouth a flat line. "If it wasn't, you'd have told me before it happened."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel says, "I'm not being crazy, Jesus. I don't think it's ridiculous to think that you could have like - you </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> that this matters to me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory isn't looking at him. She's looking at the floor. It's the same kind of worn-out carpet that's at Robby's dad's place, and Miguel's mom's. It's all the same. Robby is so fucking glad to be here it kicks through his throat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to be back," Robby says. "I want you. Both of you. Not him. What do you want me to say?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want you to say you're </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Miguel says. He flicks his eyes to Tory but then back to Robby, again. "I want you to fucking mean it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "That's it?" He feels like he's said sorry. He must have said sorry. Not for what he did, exactly. That was between him and Tory and Miguel didn't figure into it, and that doesn't mean they don't care about Miguel, enormously, too much. It just means that he wasn't there, right then. But he's fucking sorry they didn't tell Miguel, and he's even sorrier that it poked Miguel where he's sore and raw and vulnerable. That fucking sucks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory coughs. "That was my bad," she says. She's tucked her feet up, perching on them like a bird. "The not telling you. And also the sex. Robby fucking blurting it out to piss you off, that's on him, and it fucking sucked of him to blindside me. But I was feeling shitty and I needed to feel not - I needed to be in control and I couldn't do that with you. But I could do it with him. And you fucking love him, so - if anyone should be jealous, it should be me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says. "That's a lot to unpack right now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She laughs, a little tight, but mostly okay. "It's fine," she says. She takes one breath, then another. "I'm not, actually. Jealous. Just so you know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel is blinking. He looks like a little pet snake, the kind you'd see at the pet store in a fishtank under a heat lamp, with big shiny eyes. He reaches out for Tory, and she lets him settle his hand on the top of her knee. "You couldn't have just said that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory hiccups and presses her face into his shoulder. She mutters something Robby can't hear, but it's amicable, he thinks. A little bitter, but amicable. When he thinks about her it's like looking into a mirror; maybe it's fucked that he wants to reach out and never let go.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My dad said this shit would be complicated," Robby says, stretching out his legs under the table. "So, you know, if you want to take advice from the master-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory doesn't move her head, but she flips him off. Ah, the universal language.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel sighs. He's still got one hand on Tory's knee, but the other reaches out for Robby's beer. He's not that good of a drinker so Robby tenses up, just a little; but he just swallows once and hands it back. "That's not, you know, the real issue. Right? I mean, it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>an</span>
  </em>
  <span> issue." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want to be back," Robby says. He feels helpless, pinned like a butterfly. Not like a butterfly, because he wants to claw out. Draw blood. Like a cornered rat. "I'm sorry for all of it, okay? Isn't that enough?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows it isn't as he says it. It's not enough for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, let alone for Miguel and Tory. He went all the way to Palo Alto to be a fucking doormat and it sucked and he hated it, and it was so fucking easy and secretly good that he almost stayed. But he's here now. He just wants them to see that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There must be something in his voice because Miguel squeezes Tory's knee and leans forward, looking at him with those steady eyes. Robby's dad doesn't fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> steady, that's his thing. He always looks away, tries to run.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except this time, Robby ran first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he's fucking back now. Robby's dad doesn't do the comeback thing. Maybe he's an improvement on the genetic line. See, that's evolution. Robby pays attention in bio. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory sighs, unfurling. She doesn't drape her legs across Miguel's lap, just leans against his side. Robby's grateful for it. It's stupid but even though there isn't any room for him on the couch it </span>
  <em>
    <span>looks</span>
  </em>
  <span> like there is, and it wouldn't if Tory filled it all up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not sorry for all of it," Robby says. He looks at Miguel, at the shape of his mouth and the nervous tension in his hands, the way they're flexing and contracting over and over. "But I am sorry that you got hurt. That I didn't have to hurt you and I did anyway." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You left </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> for </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Miguel says. He doesn't sound as angry now. Just confused, upset. Tory's body language is a silent echo, a quiet twist in her mouth, a flatness in her eyes. "He's a fucking asshole, Robby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know that," Robby says. "I came back." Maybe it sounds patronizing. He doesn't mean it to but he doesn't know how else to say it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel's confusion sharpens into irritation. Good. Robby likes that better. He knows how to handle that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "You weren't exactly speaking to me at the time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, I fucking would have!" Miguel throws up his hands. Tory </span>
  <em>
    <span>oofs</span>
  </em>
  <span> gently, leaning out of their path. "If you said it was serious, Robby, you have to know that I would-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't want you to have to," Robby says. "It was about my dad. And I hate when I have to say things to you about him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>care</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Miguel says. His voice cracks, so he must mean it. "I care about you. </span>
  <em>
    <span>We</span>
  </em>
  <span> care about you. You can say whatever you want about your dad and I'm not going anywhere."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby closes his eyes. Everything is black but it doesn't help, it just lets him hear his heart beat louder in his ears. "I know," he says. "That's what I'm trying to tell you. I came back because I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels good to say it. It feels like it matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When I was with him," Robby begins, quietly. "Actually, even before that. I'd never been with anyone else, not like it mattered. And I kept thinking this would be like that. Like - I was going to fuck it up. Again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel opens his mouth but Tory's hand digs into his thigh. He shuts it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But it's not like that," Robby says. "I know because I was with him. And it was like it was, before. And I hated it. I really fucking hated it. I just missed you the entire time." He bites his lip and looks back down at the carpet. "I'm sorry that I didn't do it the right way. But I needed to do it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory looks at him with her pale eyes. "Baby," she says. Her voice is careful. Not unsympathetic, but unyielding. "You have to tell him about Luke."</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I told you Robby would be okay!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Robby rubs his hand across his mouth. "Miguel, I don't want to - I get what you're trying to say. Kind of. Maybe. But I think it's hard for anyone to know just how much I needed him. You weren't there. Nobody was there. He like, pulled me out. Made me a person, someone I didn't think I could be." </p><p>"Yeah," Miguel says. "But you saved him, too. And you keep saving him. You know that, right? That's what you're doing. Even when it hurts you. Even now."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: refers to dub-con, non-con (robby, shannon)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a fight. Robby can feel it snapping under his skin. When he clenches his fists electricity rolls under his fingernails, sparks against his palms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it was a fight that would be okay. Miguel would meet him. They're evenly matched, anyone could take it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it's not a fight. It's a conversation. That makes it worse, maybe. That makes it something complicated. "You can't interrupt me," he says, staring down at his own hands. "It's hard to say."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks like he's going to reach out for Robby, maybe hold his hand or something. He doesn't, because Tory presses her palm into his wrist and into the couch. Robby doesn't know if he's grateful or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," he begins. "My dad said Kreese had a lot of money from somewhere, but he didn't know where. Right? And he started to be a problem not that long ago. So I was in Stanford and I heard Luke on the phone and then I asked him about it, and he lied at first, but-" He doesn't want to keep going. It feels scary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby," Tory says, gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was really mad," Robby says. "You know? At my dad. He wasn't supposed to blow up anyone else's life! Especially not Mr LaRusso's. You know how much shit he did when I was a kid." It's not his fault but it feels like his fault, makes his skin crawl, makes him feel secretly miserable and unhappy and full of guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel just looks at him, silently. Robby can fill his own brain with the sound of what Miguel might be thinking and he hates that. At least Tory knows and she's still here. Tory doesn't stand for bullshit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's something to hold on to, right? Robby does, clenching his fists tight against his thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't ask him to. I wouldn't. But I guess Luke knew who my dad was, and he knew that it would make me vulnerable, or something, if I didn't trust my dad anymore. I don't know. He just really didn't want me to live with my dad anymore. So he's been paying this guy. Kreese." Robby swallows, the lump in his throat enormous. "He said he'd stop after I talked to him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks at Tory, and then at Robby. Robby doesn't look too closely at him, which isn't really fair, but he's feeling exposed. It's better a fight than to simply lie down. He knows that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't think he's in love with me," Robby says, because they aren't speaking and yeah, okay, he asked them not to, but it feels worse than he thought it would. It feels like a bruise on the bone, and someone's foot grinding down on it. "I think he's just fucked up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory tilts her head. "Can I say something?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says. "I'm done, that's the story." He shakes his head. "I'm mad at my dad but I wouldn't fuck it up for you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory nods. "He's a real fucking asshole, baby.”  She doesn't sound like she wants him to feel bad, just observing it. She’s good at saying things that are true without trying to make you feel bad about them. "It's good you're home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby nods. His stomach knots. "Miguel?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel is looking at Robby, still, with that clear even stare. Usually Miguel is the talky one, so his silence is unnerving. Maybe that's the word. "Did you tell your dad?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a kick in the chest, just a little. "No." He amends it. "Not yet. We aren't talking." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right," Miguel says. "Because of Mr LaRusso." He doesn't say it like Tory would, like it's just a thing that's happening. He says it more sharply, as though Robby's not saying something, and the something is important. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sucks but maybe Robby earned that, since he fucked off and didn't tell anyone where he was going, and literally went to his bad news ex boyfriend who has been </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> meddling in Robby's life from a four hour flight away. At least they didn't fuck. Robby's holding onto that one but he doesn't think it'll sound good if he keeps going back to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "I knew about them. Before." This is harder to say, because well. It sucks. It sucks to think about it and it sucks to know. "Like a month ago? I walked in on them at the house. My dad said they weren't going to keep hooking up and I said, good." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby-" Miguel begins, but Tory's digging her nails into his hand, now. He shakes his head. "I know you like Mr LaRusso a lot, but it seems like your dad really likes him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course my dad really likes him," Robby says. "He has his shit together. My dad doesn't have his shit together. My dad fucks everything up." He says it and then he winces, because Miguel and Tory are right here. "I didn't -" But he did mean it like that, so he trails off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could have said something," Tory says. "I wouldn't have told anybody."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both look at Miguel. Miguel puts his hands up. "I probably would have said something," he says, "but maybe that would have been okay, because at least we could have talked about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We did talk about it," Robby says. "He came out. It was okay." It was better. It's probably the best time Robby's ever had with his dad, which is also awful to think about, because Robby's dad fucking ruins everything even if he only does it because someone fucked him up first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't understand," Robby says. He sounds like a kid when he says it, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "He </span>
  <em>
    <span>promised</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel blinks once, then again. He looks like he has something he wants to say but he looks at Tory instead. Robby doesn't know how he feels about that. He liked it better when it was a fight, before Miguel was walking on eggshells and Robby was the one being compromised. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he says it. "Don't look at me like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What?" Miguel says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory shrugs, apologetic. "Sorry, babe. You're doing that thing with your face."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What thing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bad dad," Miguel says, sympathetically. "You look like a kid someone left at a museum." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That only happened like, twice," Robby says. "And it wasn't a museum, it was the mall." He rolls his eyes. "Okay, I see how it sounds. Which is why he should not fucking break promises to me! It's not that hard." His beer chimes against the table, hard. Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory squeezes Miguel's thigh and gets up, crossing the room until she's standing above him, and her fingers are on the curve of his chin, tilting his head up. "Robby," she says, soft, but with that Tory steadiness. Not like a normal kind of steadiness, not </span>
  <em>
    <span>predictable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but loyal. She won't tell you what she's doing, or why, but it will be for you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't look away. That would be easy. "I swear, I didn't ask Luke to do shit. Not to my dad. I just wanted to get out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." She settles to the carpet beside him, just their shoulders touching. "Keep talking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who are you, Diaz' guidance counselor?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would never invade their sacred bond," Tory deadpans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did he ask you to keep it secret?" Miguel asks. "Sensei, I mean. Your dad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-" Robby thinks about it. It's hard, even with Tory's breath in his ears and Miguel right there across the table, because it stings to think about it, knocks him off guard. Mr LaRusso definitely asked, because it would suck if anyone found out, it would fuck everything up. But Robby's dad - "He implied," Robby says. "You know what he's like."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel shrugs. "I don't," he says. "He's definitely not like that with us. If he wants something, he says it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby thinks he might be getting a headache. His sweater does smell like Luke. He wonders what Luke's doing. Probably a controlled substance. He does that, when he's home alone. Robby used to babysit, but now he doesn't. "Back to the Luke thing," he says. "I mean, that's the bad thing, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why'd he come back with you, babe?" Tory asks. "He's not really a</span>
  <em>
    <span> feels bad</span>
  </em>
  <span> kind of guy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites back his first impulse, which is sharp. Sharper than he thought. An instinct to defend, to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But Luke isn't fine, and Robby isn't either, and Luke and Robby were never fine, not from the very beginning. "He said he wanted to help me. Unfuck the mess." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You believe him?" That's Miguel, and he's vibrating, now. The edge is back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you gonna believe me if I tell you?" Robby snaps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel shrugs, not giving an inch. "Maybe. If you tell the truth."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck it. "Yeah, I do trust him," he says. "I'm sorry. I know it would be easier if I said I didn't, or if I could like, blackmail him or something, but I can't. I just fucking trust him, okay? I know it sounds stupid, it sounds like every fucking time I talk about my fucking dad, but he feels shitty that I got hurt. He always feels shitty when I get hurt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks at Tory. "Okay," he says. "Then that's one less thing to worry about." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "Yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Tory says. "Yeah." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Huh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's when Seth gets home, coming through the door with his backpack in his hand. He's so little, Robby thinks, but he probably thinks he's a person, because Robby was definitely his own person when he was eleven. He has hair the same colour as Tory's but his eyes are dark brown. "Hi," he says, looking at them all warily. Robby remembers how he used to look at his mom's boyfriends, and Miguel must, too, because he opens up his hands, looks even less threatening than usual.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, kid," Tory says. "You want a sandwich?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's calculating in his tiny little head, Robby can see it: under the mop of tousled curl there are </span>
  <em>
    <span>equations</span>
  </em>
  <span> running. Like Anthony, but a little less the Exorcist, a little more sweet. "Pizza?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory narrows her eyes. "Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seth nods. "Mom's coming home late," he says. "So I think we should get pizza." He looks at Robby and then at Miguel. "For everyone."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory raises her eyebrows. "Everyone, huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Everyone," Seth says. "I want pepperoni." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sounds good to me," Robby says, getting up so he can fit into the couch, next to Miguel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel blinks at him but he moves over, making room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seth ends up eating in his room but the air is different with the kid there. Robby wonders if it was ever like that for his mom, if he ever sucked the air out of her conversations. He heard a ton of fights when he was a kid, but it really could go either way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you gonna go home?" Miguel asks. "Your dad really misses you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Robby says. "My fucking plants probably miss me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Miguel says. "We've been watering them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not me," Tory says. "Black thumb."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me and your dad. It gives him something to do instead of freaking out and breaking things." Miguel shrugs. "Mr LaRusso really isn't around, Robby, if that helps."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My mom thinks I should move back in with Mrs LaRusso," Robby says. "I don't know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel says, "That's far." He swallows. "If you really think that would be better-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My mom says she's coming out early," Robby says. "I don't think she should do that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You scared the shit out of us," Tory says, softly. "You're </span>
  <em>
    <span>still</span>
  </em>
  <span> scaring the shit out of your dad. I know he deserves it. I'm just telling you, it's happening."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby's car is where he left it, parked around the corner at his dad's. There's a thin layer of dead leaf on the dash but his tires are still there, and that was not actually a guarantee in this neighbourhood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel's hovering, pretending he isn't. It's annoying but it's also forgiveness and Robby isn't going to turn up his nose at that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's too late for Robby to go see his mom. He should have done it right off the bat, right out of the airport. He didn't. That's kind of a shitty thing to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pretty much all Robby's choices have been shitty. He knows that. He picked something that's good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He'll see her tomorrow. He'll call her tonight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He needs to know where he's going, first. He doesn't want to let his mom fix it. Not that he doesn't think she can, just - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay. Maybe he doesn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe he's not ready for things to change quite that much just yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory's sitting on the hood of her car, smoking. She offered Miguel one and he shook his head. Robby didn't want to get off on the wrong foot so he didn't, either. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kind of wishes he had right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You waiting out here or in there?" he asks Miguel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel shrugs, looking between Robby and Tory. "What do you want?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby thinks about it. Miguel would probably be happier inside, with Robby and his dad, so he can step in if things heat up. But Miguel still doesn't really get how mad Robby is, or why. That's okay. Robby's glad his dad hasn't let Miguel down like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "Out here. Is that okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel nods. "It's fine," he says. "Yell if you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll text," Robby says. "It's just gonna be him, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel nods. "Like I said, he's just been with us since you left. My mom, sometimes. Mostly just himself. Sam came over to yell at him yesterday but that's it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam could have told Robby. But she wouldn't have. He thinks: okay. And then he lets himself think: talk to her tomorrow. He doesn't want to put out that little fire, the righteous indignation. That's </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking dad. If she's gonna yell she could at least give him a head's up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel says, "Go easy on him, okay? I know it's been hard for you, but we really did all freak out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sets his jaw. But he leans forward, into the warmth of Miguel's care, and lets himself be kissed. "Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory waves. She looks comfortable there, settled in for the long haul. That feels good. Feels better, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes a deep breath and pulls his spine straight. Easy, baby. Like you're going to the mat. He doesn't need to bow to his dad's front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knocks once, then again. It looks exactly the same, fresh-painted because his dad is really into home improvement now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watered Robby's plants. Robby is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> going to get excited over stepping over the bar, that's on the floor. He tried that before and it took him to fucking Palo Alto, okay? He's not going to do it. He has </span>
  <em>
    <span>options</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby?" Robby's dad is standing in the doorway. His face looks the way it always looks, craggy and tired, and the stubble's been growing for at least a couple days. There's a beer stain on his shirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby realizes, to his horror, that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>missed him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He missed the broadness of his dad's shoulders, the easiness of his smile when he doesn't think anyone's looking. The way he watches Miguel, soft and full of pride. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby has been staring for a minute, he thinks. Maybe more. Not speaking, just standing there. "Uh," he says. "Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad's voice cracks. "Hey," he says. "You wanna come in?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Robby was Miguel his dad would be hugging him. Robby's dad and Miguel get in fights sometimes but not really fights, not real ones. Robby's dad always backs down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "Okay." He looks past his dad's shoulder, into the living room. The couch is empty. There's a pile of cans on the table. "Drinking alone?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the hell else was I supposed to do?" Robby's dad asks. He steps out of the way for Robby, looks past Robby's shoulder, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not coming," Robby says. "It's just you and me, Dad. Thunderdome."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad shuts the door. "Okay," he says. "You wanna sit?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby hovers. The thing is that it feels like </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> house. It feels like where he lives, where he kissed Tory for the first time, where Miguel brought him food and treated him like a person, not just a walking fuck up. "I'm gonna check on my plants."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad has picked up one of the cans and is swirling it. "Okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's fucking dad. Maybe it would be better if they were just yelling at each other. Yelling isn't so bad, really. It has its place. It's important, sometimes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Robby's dad is being careful and so Robby is being careful, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He opens his bedroom door. It looks the same, too: his bed that he makes every morning, his plants perched on their shelf in the moonlight. "Hi, babies," he croons. It's silly, but they're his. He does care about them. He shouldn't have walked out on them like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, Robby is never going to be able to get a pet. Too many daddy issues. Also mommy issues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He checks their leaves and the dampness of the soil. Everyone is looking okay, but he'll have to rotate a few of them into better sunlight. Nothing urgent. He plucks a couple dead leaves away, tossing them out the window. He watches the dry little shapes curl away into the sidewalk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brushes his fingers over one last leaf and heads back out the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad jerks, like he's been staring at the door and doesn't want to get caught. Robby catches these things, always, and thinks about them fondly, because he's fucked up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sorry," Robby’s dad says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too," Robby says. "I should have told you where I was going." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I shouldn't have fucked LaRusso," Robby's dad says, wryly. "You gonna sit?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Robby settles into the armchair and tucks his feet under himself. It's kind of a defensive position but he doesn't think his dad is going to begrudge him that. "You really only did it once?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I really only did it once," Robby's dad says. He looks down at his knees. "It really was an accident." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Miguel says you haven't seen him," Robby says. "Also Tory. Tory says that, too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your ex-girlfriend's pretty mad at me," Robby's dad says. He's got that same not-quite smile curling at the edges of his mouth, at odds with his eyes. His eyes are tired, caught on Robby's face, like Robby's about to cut and run. "Not trying to score points or anything. Just, you know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs. There’s no point holding it back; it all feels pointless. Might as well spit it out. "My ex-boyfriend is the one putting the money in. To the Kreese thing. Or, he was." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck?" Robby's dad leans forward. "That asshole? Whose money? How?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby reaches for one of the unopened cans. It's probably lukewarm, but who cares? The tab pops under his fingers with a satisfying hiss. "His dad doesn't care," Robby says. "And he's like, he makes money." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"From the-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." From the drugs. It's probably not that much, though. Not compared to however much it takes to take over a karate dojo. Not that Robby knows much about that, either; he must have cut class during the corporate espionage unit. Luke's dad has never given a shit about any of that, though, as long as Luke stays quiet and off anyone's socials. "I'm sorry. I know it's been really shitty for you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "Did you ask him to do it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck," Robby says. "No. I wouldn't- that's stupid. I already picked my rival dojo." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Then okay," Robby's dad says. "Nothing to do with you." He sounds sincere. Earnest. His hands are picking at the fraying threads on his jeans. He's trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "You promised me." It feels even weaker to say it out loud, to his dad. It felt weak in front of Tory and Miguel, a little better in front of Luke. Now, in Robby's dad's apartment - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby's home</span>
  </em>
  <span> - the words bounce off Robby's ears and fall flat to the dirty carpet. "Sam's so mad. Mrs LaRusso is probably freaking out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your mom gave me an earful, too," Robby's dad says. His fingers twitch again, like he wants to reach out for Robby, hold him still, keep him from running away. See how you like it on the other side, dad? It fucking sucks. "Which I deserve." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Pity party's not like you," Robby says. The quieter his dad is the more he wants to push. This </span>
  <em>
    <span>matters</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Robby wouldn't have run away if it didn't. Robby put his whole life on hold and got back in bed with Luke and his dad's just sitting here, saying okay? That's not </span>
  <em>
    <span>fair</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's supposed to kick him just like it kicked Robby, drag him through the dirt and leave him sobbing on the side of the road. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not a pity party," Robby's dad says. His gaze doesn't waver. "I tried calling you. I called your mom. I bought a plane ticket to San Jose. But I figured none of that was good enough, right? You've had enough gestures from me. So I watered your plants and I haven't seen LaRusso and I've been waiting for you, here, because that's what nobody ever does for you. Just stays."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's heart spikes. His dad's voice is even, quiet. Steady. Robby's dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>isn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> steady. He doesn't know how to stick around, at least not for Robby. He knows how to throw a punch and get thrown in jail and win you one elephant, one time, and not show up for the rest of the year. "What did my mom say?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The usual," Robby's dad says. "Mostly swearing. But she was right. She said neither of us knows how to keep a promise to you, and we were lucky that you kept giving us the chance to make new ones." He shakes his head. "Kid, I was so fucking scared when you were gone. I told you I almost got choked to death when I was a kid, right? Couldn't see out of my right eye, couldn't breathe, thought it was the end for sure. This was worse."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was safe," Robby says. "He wouldn't hurt me. I wouldn't let him do that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad smiles again, the smile that's like a sob. "Yeah. I know." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby curls his fingers around his can. The carbonation bursts across his tongue. "I was always going to come back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, you weren't." Robby's dad's voice is sharp and sure; so sharp Robby lifts his head, startled, and meets the full force of that stare. "I promised you I was going to put you first. Even if it hurt me, because that's what parents are supposed to do. And I didn't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby sets his own jaw. "What the hell were you thinking?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad laughs. Hollow, flat. "I wasn't thinking. I was scared about a lot of things, and I missed him. But not as much as I fucking missed you, kid. I missed you so much." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't do that," Robby says. "Don't lie to me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not lying," Robby's dad says. He gets up, takes one step, then another. Then he's kneeling beside Robby's chair, his palm flat on the arm so he isn't making contact with any part of Robby's body. "It just took me a long time to realize that the reason I was so fucked up was because I missed you. It's like there was a part of me that was on fire, and I got used to it. And then you came back and I was still so in shock that I couldn't tell I wasn't hurting anymore. Not until you left again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby screws his eyes shut. "You left first." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know, kid." The ache in Robby's dad's voice rattles through Robby's chest, through his whole body. "I love you so much." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby reaches out two fingers, just the middle and index of his right hand. Rests the tips of them on the back of his dad's hand, just lightly ghosting over that cool cracked skin. They're both used to full-contact everything but Robby's dad takes a deep breath and shivers, looking like how Robby is feeling, wrecked all the way through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sucks in air. "Yeah?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I took my kids to the woods every day this week," Robby's dad says. "It fucking sucked. You know what it's like driving those little shits anywhere? They scream the whole time."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby imagines it. That's a lot of kid to drive a lot of way. "Is Mr LaRusso okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not happy," Robby's dad says. "But he's okay. He was worried about you, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. "He's mad at me, right?" It isn't fair that Robby's trying to stop Mr LaRusso from doing anything. It's not like Robby is smarter or better. He shouldn't - but he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's just scared." Robby's dad is still crouching there, looking up at Robby. "Nobody's mad at you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I left," Robby says. "And I made you -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You didn't make me do anything," Robby's dad says, firmly. His fingers twitch like he's going to lift his hand, curl it around Robby's shoulder. "You know me. Have I ever done anything I didn't want to?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby does laugh, at that. "I'm sorry," he says. Because he is. "You were happy before I left. Even though everything was fucked up. You were doing better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>You</span>
  </em>
  <span> were happy," Robby's dad says. "Jesus, kid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "I told him to stop. My - I told him not to do it anymore. So Kreese shouldn't. But I don't know if it will help."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad's eyes crinkle. "Doesn't matter," he says. "We'll figure it out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It does matter," Robby says. "You're my dad. He didn't care about you. He just wanted to hurt me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad looks at Robby, long and careful. "Robby, are you - did he do anything to you, while you were there? Do we need to go to the hospital?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Robby a second, more. He is blinking and then he is laughing, the sound ripping out of his throat. "Fuck," he says, curling his hand into a fist and pressing it against his thigh. "Sorry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad's forehead wrinkles. "Kid," he says. Like he's worried, for real. Like e he thinks it would matter if something </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> happened to Robby. If Luke did something Robby didn't want. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's not fair. Robby's dad would care. Especially now that he knows Robby, now that he can't get away from thinking about him. Not like when Robby was a kid and Robby's dad didn't know he existed. Or, pretended he didn't exist. Same thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm okay," Robby says. His sides hurt from laughing too hard. "I don't need to go to the hospital."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your mom-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She never had to go to the hospital, either. Just get drunk on the couch with Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna see her tomorrow," Robby says. "She wants to leave early."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad doesn't look surprised. "Yeah. She's impressed that I blew up all your options in one bad decision."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby grins. That's his mom, all right. Doesn't let his dad get away with shit. That's where he gets it, too - except for how he let Luke get away with a lot of shit. Too much. And now he has to clean that up, too.  Maybe Hawk will break Luke's leg, if Robby asks real nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you going to stay here tonight?" Robby's dad asks. He looks at Robby's hand and puts his own over the top, a stack, like Robby's a little kid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby honestly didn't know until right this second. "Yeah. If that's okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Of course. This is your home. As long as you want." He looks serious. He doesn't look mad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You watered my plants."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Diaz texted me instructions." Robby's dad squeezes his hand and gets up, slowly, watching Robby like Robby's going to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>no don't, stay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't say anything. He doesn't press his fingers into his dad's hand, but he doesn't pull away, either. "He's a good person."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad sighs. He's bent over a little, because he's tall and Robby is curled up in the armchair, and he is still holding Robby's hand. "He's not too good for you. I hope you know that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "Shh. They'll think you like me." But he pulls his phone out of his pocket and texts Miguel and Tory, anyway, and then he takes a shower in his own bathroom and goes to his own bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's late. Robby is so tired. He doesn't realize until he's back in his bed how different he felt, how wired he was. When he went to Palo Alto it felt like he was finally safe, finally free, but he was just stuck in a different kind of mess. Now he's here, and it sucks, sure. But this is </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> bed, and it smells like </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and his plants are here, and Miguel is across the hall and he could call Sam if he wanted and she'd be twenty minutes away if he hit the gas hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his dad is here, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span> how much his dad likes Mr LaRusso. He hasn't let himself think about it because he hasn't wanted to, hasn't wanted to notice these things because they're </span>
  <em>
    <span>the wrong thing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because Robby's dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> fuck everything up, just like Robby fucks everything up, like Robby's dad's dad before him, probably. Robby's dad knows how much he fucks things up. He leaves a trail of crushed Coors cans behind him, like horrible breadcrumbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby likes Mr LaRusso so much. He likes Mr LaRusso's </span>
  <em>
    <span>family </span>
  </em>
  <span>so much. He likes who he is when he's with them. But maybe that person isn't quite real. Maybe he's just someone Robby wished he could be; someone endlessly patient, and funny, and devoted; someone who doesn't drink and always helps with the cleanup and never complains about anything. Someone who stays in on weekends and watches Dirty Dancing once a week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The karate is real. That he knows. He's going out of his mind without it, and he's never felt as in control as he does when he steps on to a mat, or on the wheel. He's so fucking good at it. He loves loving something enough to be good at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He </span>
  <em>
    <span>likes</span>
  </em>
  <span> Dirty Dancing. And he doesn't mind waiting two hours for Sam to do her weird thing with her hair before they go skating, or to Golf and Stuff, or whatever. He likes Mrs LaRusso's weird lasagna, even if he isn't a fan of broccoli, even when she puts that good sauce on it. Mr LaRusso's fish is okay. Robby's getting better at eating it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If that Robby isn't quite real maybe the LaRusso family wasn't quite what Robby wanted it to be, either. Maybe that's what he was really scared of. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad really does like Mr LaRusso. Robby and his dad aren't close, or maybe they are now but they haven't been, for most of Robby's life. But they've known each other a long time, Robby's whole life, and even with all the spaces in between meetings there's still a history there that means Robby knows his dad better than lots of people, probably. Robby's dad, like Robby, isn't exactly used to people sticking around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso, though. Robby's dad used to talk about him when Robby was a kid, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that guy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, just punctuation in the sorry story of his high school sports glory that got him all the way to fucking Reseda. He used to clench his fists when he talked about him. It was hard for Robby at first, to reconcile </span>
  <em>
    <span>LaRusso</span>
  </em>
  <span> with Mr LaRusso, a neat, friendly guy in a suit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks it was probably hard for his dad, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now it's not like that. Now Mr LaRusso matters to Robby: he's not a rich asshole, he's a nice guy who looks out for everyone he meets. Who brought Robby into his </span>
  <em>
    <span>house</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Who told Robby he was going to be great. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is: Robby's dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>lights up</span>
  </em>
  <span> around Mr LaRusso. He has from the very beginning, from that first time when Mr LaRusso tried to introduce Robby to his own dad and everything went to shit. (The first time. Robby had freaked out so bad that time, but god, compare it to where he is now. Nowhere to go but up, kiddo.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's never seen his dad look at anybody like that. Like he's worth staring at, like he could change gravity. Even when they hated each other, Robby's dad was still always </span>
  <em>
    <span>looking</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Robby used to watch that because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Because he was scared his dad would set it on fire, turn it into a fight, into a war. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad doesn't like people. He likes Miguel, but it's impossible to not love Miguel. Robby understands that. But anybody else - Robby's dad dislikes nice people </span>
  <em>
    <span>on principle</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby buries his whole face in his pillow. The cotton surrounds him, fills everything up. Makes it feel like he's wrapped up, embraced. He also can't breathe. He groans, chokes on his own spit, and shakes his head in frustration. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For that month before Robby walked in on Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso, Robby's dad was </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He was better. He drank less. He wasn't mad all the time. He didn't bait Robby's mom. He didn't bait </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he looks bad without Mr LaRusso. He doesn't look good, sure, right now, and he didn't right after Robby caught them, but he's still better than any other time in Robby's life. He has Miguel, and he has Cobra Kai, even if that's a little fucked right now, and he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Even if things aren't perfect Robby's dad isn't hanging out for Mr LaRusso like he's the only good thing that could ever have happened to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's just that -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does light up when Mr LaRusso is around. When they are near each other both of them look </span>
  <em>
    <span>different</span>
  </em>
  <span>, heightened, hyper-aware. Robby used to think it was leading to a fight but now he is a person who kisses his boyfriend and girlfriend when they are on the mat together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's gross to think about his dad like, fucking, but it's also- </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit. Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso circle each other like they'd do if they were going to the mat, but there's no animosity there. Instead there is joy; the knowledge that there is someone out there who can match you, who can see in you all your bad decisions and still come to meet you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby cannot and will not regret what he said. His dad broke a fucking promise, and he ruined a lot of fragile shit that was not ready to be tested, and now Robby is going to have to put himself back together. Not to mention that he has to figure out Luke's shit, too, because that's his mess, and he hates that he made it but he did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if Robby was his dad, he would miss Mr LaRusso a lot. Especially now that Mr LaRusso has made it clear he's waiting for Robby's dad. He's willing to change everything for Robby's dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it's Robby who is standing between them. But only because his dad lets him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's phone rings at 1:45am. Robby's been tossing and turning but he bolts upright like he's been dragged out of deep REM anyway. Maybe he was waiting for this. It's not like he didn't know it was coming. When he thinks about it at all it's like, oh, of course.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If he had any sense he'd put the phone down, but it's been established he doesn't, so he sighs at the screen and accepts the call. "What is it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's voice is the same as it always is this time of night, thready and too-fast, the vowels chasing the consonants. "Robby, baby," he says. "Where'd you go? I missed you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well: Robby did this to himself. He asked for the wrong kind of help and now he's fucking stuck because if Luke ODs he's going to feel like a piece of absolute shit, because there is literally nobody else he can trust to handle this, because nobody else cares. Maybe he could call Trip but what the fuck would he do, anyway? He doesn't deserve to have to deal with this shit. He was nice to Robby when he didn't have to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Drink some water," Robby says. "Not too much. You think you can handle that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pitch of Luke's laugh is a little off, not quite right. That's familiar. "I don't know. Maybe. I'll give it a shot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby texts Miguel. </span>
  <em>
    <span>u up</span>
  </em>
  <span>? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No reply, fuck it. He gets out of bed and pulls his jacket on, rifles through his dresser for a pair of jeans. Still nothing on his phone but - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moonlight is bright on his face. Luke is breathing softly in his ear, like he's not paying attention to Robby, like he's just fucking floating. There was a swallowing sound a little bit ago, the messy noise of a hand dragged across a mouth. Luke hates being messy but sometimes he forgets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby could just get in the car and fix it. Maybe he'd be back in time. He'd have to tell Miguel later but at least it wouldn't be a mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. He stoops and finds the right rock, small enough to bounce against his palm, light enough to just ping once against the bottom of the window.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light goes on and Miguel leans out, takes one look at Robby fully dressed on the sidewalk. Points to himself then back to the sidewalk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Wait for me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's humming. He's saying, "Remember when we drove up the coast and we met that guy? I forget his name."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby scuffs his shoes against the sidewalk; Luke's not here to see him do it. "How much?" Robby asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't pay for it. Not like that." He sounds offended. Robby pictures the soft haze in his eyes, the overdramatic pout. He gets flamboyant, touchy and overdramatic. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, asshole, how much did you </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Who gave it to you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not that much," Luke says, sniffs once, again. That means too much. That means he lost track. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It could still be fine. He might just sleep it off. He's done it a hundred times. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"His name was Ian," Robby says. His voice snaps in the cool winter air. "He was twenty-two. He and his friends were driving up the coast in a couple of vans. He asked how old I was and you said eighteen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aw, hell, Robby. Are you gonna get me down?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby chews his lip. "I didn't want to," he says. He knows Luke isn't really listening, probably won't remember any of this as anything other than a headache, than a blur of just another night. "I thought it was just going to be you and me, but you didn't - want that. I said you could do what you wanted and you said I could walk home if I wanted. And then I did it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A low breath. "Baby," Luke says. There's something in it but Robby doesn't want to pick through it to figure out what it is. Where the part of it is that will make Robby feel bad, that will make it all Robby's fault, like everything is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby closes his eyes. He's not that kid anymore. "It was real fucked up," he says. "You were a real asshole to me. Just so you know." </span>
  <em>
    <span>I know. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It doesn't matter if Luke knows or not, but it matters that Robby has said it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Luke says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A figure in a red hoodie emerges from the building, with a familiar dark shock of hair perched atop a familiar head. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Miguel's here. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The calmness rushes over Robby like a wave. He lets out a sigh, enough that Luke makes a questioning sound to which Robby does not respond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel doesn't reach out for him, but he skids to a halt very close. Reassuringly close, like he had to force himself to not catch Robby in his arms. "Keene, what's going on?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby mutes his phone, shoves it in his pocket. "I have to check on him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Miguel a second, and then he groans, pressing his fingers to his eyes. "For real?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not good at being on his own," Robby says. "I didn't want to not tell you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel sighs and takes a long, considering look. Robby wonders what he'll do if Miguel says no. If Miguel says </span>
  <em>
    <span>him or me</span>
  </em>
  <span>. That's what Luke would say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he's with Miguel because Miguel isn't like that. "Okay," Miguel says, stepping forward to bump his shoulder against Robby's. "Let's go."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby pulls his phone back out. "Don't choke on your tongue," he tells Luke. "I'll be there soon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like a short drive, just the two of them on the empty streets. It's a Friday night. Robby wonders why Luke didn't go out, or have people come to him. It's his town, that's what he always told Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here's Robby, though, stretching out his fingers against the steering wheel. He should have left a note for his dad. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks young. He's looking at Robby looking at him. Robby likes that, the way it circles in on itself. That he likes Miguel enough to be looking and Miguel likes him enough to be looking back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not good for me," Robby says, softly. "I know that. I knew it for a long time but - I can feel it, now. I didn't feel it before."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?"  Miguel's fingers twitch, palm up, open.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby reaches over, dropping his hand into Miguel's. He feels good, warm. "Like my dad and Kreese," he says. "But you know. Not. Like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel makes a face, and then he freezes, like something horrible has just occurred to him. "You don't think-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says. He did think about it, the way Kreese is so possessive and so violent, that he might have done something when his dad was a kid, but his dad would have said something. Not like, in words. But Robby would know. "I think he'd have freaked out differently, about me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel thinks about it. "That makes sense. Kreese likes fucking with people. That's what gets him off."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ugh," Robby says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Miguel says. "Fuck that guy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I really am sorry," Robby says. "If I'd known that he would even think about doing something like this, I'd have-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not gone to visit?" Miguel cracks a smile, a thin one that doesn't meet his eyes. "You didn't tell him to do it. None of this was up to you. Kind of would be nice if it was, because then we could do something about it, but - it's what it is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How's Hawk?" Robby asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel flinches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says. "Another time." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then they're in Calabasas, pulling into the familiar gate, where Robby can lean out of the window to tap in the familiar code. It still feels strange to walk in here like he belongs, like it was ever his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's waiting at the door. "Hi," he says. And then he looks past Robby. "Who are you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel rolls his eyes, shoulders firm. "You know who I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks, mouth red, eyes bloodshot. He looks fucking strung out, like he's trying to get out of his own skin. Robby's fucked him like this and it was fun, but Robby was fucked up too, usually. He usually looked like a painting the next day, sore all over. "Oh. The boyfriend."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's me." Miguel grins. "How's that wrist doing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby," Luke says, almost a whine. "Really? This guy?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby catches the sleeve of Miguel's sweater, reeling him in. Miguel cocks his head but lets himself be pulled, tips his face so Robby can kiss him lightly, swiftly. It feels good. Like Robby can be strong, now. Like Robby has made his own choices and he's proud of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke sways and Robby has to let go of Miguel to catch him. "Fuck, you're heavy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome." Luke tips his face into Robby's hair. "Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby drags Luke's arm over his shoulder. This is easy, autopilot. He knows how to do this. As much as Luke knows how to handle Robby when he's freaking out, Robby's been on the other side of it, too. "I would love it so, so, much," he says, "if you could shut up. Just like, for ten minutes. That would be awesome."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Baby," Luke says, and the way he says it makes something cold and slimy crawl up Robby's spine. "I missed you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel coughs. "You need a hand?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah," Robby says. "If you can just get the door open, maybe. That would be good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel follows Robby and Luke down the hall. Robby's busy focusing on not dropping Luke, who is playing with his hair and being otherwise unhelpful; it's not until he dumps Luke on his stupid huge bed and says, "Fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>stay</span>
  </em>
  <span>," that he can see that Miguel is looking around, wide-eyed, unnerved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The last time I was here," Miguel says, thoughtfully, "I almost got arrested."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sits down next to Luke on the edge of the bed. Luke's hands are flailing around so he pins one with his hand while he looks at Miguel. Astonishingly, Luke settles down. "You weren't going to get arrested."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I would have called the cops," Luke says. "Like, no question." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What did I say," Robby hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel laughs, looking around the big bedroom, eyes sliding along the walls and the carpet and Robby and Luke. "I mean, I'm not the one who doesn't think you're a massive douche, Luke, so you can say whatever you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't give him any ideas." Robby gets up, swiftly, because he wants to, and crosses the room. Locking the bedroom door won't keep Luke in, just slow him down a little, but mostly he just didn't want to be touching him anymore. Mostly he wanted to be - "Thanks for coming."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke tosses his head against the pillows, hands tangling in his duvet cover. "I think that's my line, no?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel looks at Robby. The tilt of his chin is vulnerable, nervous; the gleam of his eyes bright. There's sleep in his eyelashes, still. Robby called him and he came. "It's a nice house," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks!" Luke calls.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby ignores him. "It sucks," he says. "It echoes. You can't wear your shoes on the carpet." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel laughs and steps forward and they are kissing, just the two of them, nobody else in the world. Miguel's hands settle on Robby's hips, careful, not pushing, and Robby lets himself make fists out of Miguel's hoodie, over his heart. It's not a fight when they kiss. Not like this. Miguel is here, and he cares about Robby. Enough to come all this way, to help someone he hates - someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby</span>
  </em>
  <span> doesn't fucking like - just because Robby asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby breaks for air, resting his forehead against Miguel's, feeling the warmth of his breath and the softness of his hair curling against Robby's own skin. "The food delivery sucks. None of your grandma's empanadas." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Miguel says, laughing. "I get it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke isn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>difficult</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like this. Not more than he is normally. And there are advantages to it; Robby used to like Luke on uppers because he gets sweet and friendly and generous. But it's unpredictable, especially when he's alone. It would be nice if Luke could be a normal fucking person and just get stoned when he's alone, but that would be underachieving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't really </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to be babysat. There's not much he could do to himself in this house, especially if he just wants to lie here and stare at them creepily, which is what he's been doing. But if Robby leaves there's a whole world outside this McMansion, especially on a Friday night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Luke won't tell him what he took. He can guess and there's a ninety per cent chance he's right and Luke will be fine, as fine as he ever is. But that ten per cent - serious damage lives in there. And nobody else will know that. Will care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything </span>
  <em>
    <span>Robby </span>
  </em>
  <span>cares. Luke's a shitty person but he's a </span>
  <em>
    <span>person</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and just like Robby's dad someone made him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby turns his face so it's sideways against the bedspread, soft against his cheek, and he can look at Luke's face, next to him."Was it your dad?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke's hand twitches against Robby's thigh. "What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't bother moving his hand away, just looks at Luke, hard. "Was he home, Luke?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs. "Just heading out," he says. "He was happy to see me. You know how he is." His skin is hot when Robby touches him; his smile so sharp-edged Robby could cut himself. He doesn't say it ruefully, like he would sober. Which means he's wrapped up in the high, still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know how he is," Robby agrees. "Have you eaten?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks at him. "I-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That means he hasn't. Probably not since before they got on the plane, and Luke's a lot of person; not eating hits him hard. "Okay. Sit tight." He brushes his hand across Luke's forehead the way he likes, feels him turn into Robby's hand like a cat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna get him some water," Robby says, to Miguel, who is still leaning against the wall, watching. "And then some food. You hungry?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel shrugs. "I could eat." He sighs and crosses to the foot of the bed, looking at Luke, considering. "Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," Luke says, blinking again. "You good, Diaz? You want anything?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He doesn't," Robby says, sharply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke pouts. "I was just going to say, I think there's ice cream in the freezer."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't eat ice cream," Robby says. He goes into the bathroom and starts looking for a cup. His hands shake a little when he fills it from the tap, but it doesn't spill over his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel's sitting at the foot of the bed, looking cautiously at Luke like you might if you were in a room with a large snake. Robby is so fucking glad to be here with him. Not just because he doesn't like being alone. "He says it's cookies and cream."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's probably low-carb," Robby says. "Trust me, you don't want to find out what low-carb ice cream tastes like."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not that bad," Luke says. "It tastes like the memory of a cow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's disgusting," Robby says. "I'm gonna do that horrible chicken breast thing you like. You wanna come, or stay here?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke closes his eyes. "I think I'm just gonna float." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Miguel says, gently. "I'll watch him." He isn't smiling but he isn't angry, either. Just thoughtful. And there's a softness when he looks at Robby that Robby has always liked, because it doesn't feel like Miguel thinks he needs to be protected or cared for, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> it. "What kind of chicken?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Literally just chicken breast in a pan," Robby says. "It's gross." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It has </span>
  <em>
    <span>macros</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Luke says. "Don't you like macros, Diaz?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not really," Miguel says, looking down at Luke. "Sorry, buddy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs again and lets himself out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby wakes up to Miguel's breath on the back of his neck and Luke's eyes staring right at him. He doesn't bother complaining; Luke doesn't think about things like being creepy. They are all lying in Luke's bed. It's enormous so there is plenty of room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you sleep at all?" He has a vivid memory of Luke settling down in bed, stretching his fingers out to trace Robby's face. Robby had been kind of irritated but mostly tired, and Miguel had kissed the back of his neck and wrapped his arms around Robby, and that had helped to soothe that sharp irritation in his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe," Luke says. "I drifted off but then I woke up again. I didn't want to make too much noise so I just watched you guys. He's sweet. Little possessive, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs. "You tire yourself out yet?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke blinks. "Maybe." The bags around his eyes are deep and his hair is lank. He was sweating, running hot. "Fuck."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Robby says. He reaches forward, rubbing his thumb across Luke's forehead, sweeping some of the damp strands away from his face. "It's good you called." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel makes a soft sound and tightens his arms around Robby's waist. Robby stills, waiting for him to wake up, but he just makes another little content sound and nuzzles against the back of Robby's neck again. Soft warmth ripples up Robby's spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke smirks, which is a hell of a thing to do when you're strung out and crashing and have only slept for two hours in fifteen minute increments, but that's Luke for you. "Cute." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seriously," Robby says, gently. "What set you off?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke shrugs. "Did something have to?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"C'mon. It's me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke huffs a sigh, rolling onto his back to look up at the ceiling. He does sound fond when he says it, at least. "I don't like being alone," he says. "I don't like when you leave me. Alone." He winces. "I know how it sounds."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs, folding one hand over Miguel's hand on his stomach, holding tight. "It's never just about me," he says. "I'm not a sucker anymore, you can't just make it my fault."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wasn't," Luke protests, but limply. "It wasn't like that. I just didn't want to see those guys, you know? I didn't want to have to be that guy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, those guys are assholes." Robby rubs his thumb across Miguel's hand, thinking. "You're an asshole when you're with them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anytime," Robby says. "You think you can shower? You'll feel better."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke smirks at him. It's not a good smirk, not particularly full of life, but it's a close attempt. "You just want to wake up your boyfriend without me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That too," Robby says. "Go on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke gets up, stretching carefully. He doesn't hide the wince when he moves; Robby knows he wouldn't do it in front of anyone else. "I'll take a bath."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't fall in," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke flips him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As soon as Luke leaves Robby wriggles around, so he can face Miguel. "Real subtle," he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel grins lazily at him. "I didn't want to kill the mood."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls his eyes but presses a kiss to Miguel's forehead. "Did you sleep?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Some," Miguel says. "Probably more than you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs. "It was okay," he says. "He's been worse." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He didn't seem great," Miguel says, quietly. His thumbs skate over Robby's hips, grounding, easy. "You're good with him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm used to it," Robby says. "Him and my mom, you know. Between 'em."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel's eyes flicker, like he's going to say something, but he just kisses Robby. Morning breath is kind of gross but Robby is happy to be here. If it was Luke he was kissing in Miguel's bed it would be weird, Luke would make it weird, a power thing, but Miguel is just pleasant and warm against him. "Do they have cereal here?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably not," Robby says. "We can go look, though."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They do find some cereal. It's fucking bran flakes and almond milk, but Robby's not complaining. He puts the coffee on and tucks himself into the breakfast nook, Miguel hooking his ankle over Robby's. It's kind of weird to just be wandering around Luke's house like this - like being alone in the Batcave or something - but Robby figures if anyone's earned it he has. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat in silence for a little while, Miguel frowning into his mug of coffee, a little furrow between his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby crunches his bran flakes and waits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Miguel says, "I get it now. He needs you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel shrugs, doesn't meet his eyes. "It didn't make sense, before. For me. Like, I know there are lots of reasons people have shitty boyfriends. Or girlfriends, or whatever. Shitty relationships. It's just that you're so tough, you know? And he was - I know you don't talk about it that much, but. He sucks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was fucked up," Robby says, quietly. "I am fucked up. I needed him. Sometimes I still need him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Miguel says. "Yeah, that's - but if it was just that - you don't mind like, being without things you need. You're kind of good at it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby flinches. "Is this going somewhere good, Diaz? 'Cause I'm not really enjoying it." Having his boyfriend call him - basically - a fucking doormat is not Robby's idea of a nice morning. But maybe it's fair enough, because Miguel's idea of a fun Friday night was probably not babysitting Robby's ex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know," Miguel says. He shakes his head, a tiny movement. His hair falls into his eyes. "I'm just saying, I don't think it was just </span>
  <em>
    <span>you </span>
  </em>
  <span>that kept you there, you know? I think - you were scared that he'd be hurt if you left. And that's something you don't talk about. You never say that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rubs his hand across his mouth. "Miguel, I don't want to - I get what you're trying to say. Kind of. Maybe. But I think it's hard for anyone to know just how much I needed him. You weren't there. Nobody was there. He like, pulled me out. Made me a person, someone I didn't think I could be." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Miguel says. "But you saved him, too. And you keep saving him. You know that, right? That's what you're doing. Even when it hurts you. Even now." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites his lip. "Diaz-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel swallows. Robby lets himself look now, at the cautious line of his throat, at the care in his hands that curl around his spoon, at the delicacy of his gaze. "What did you say to Tory? About Beth? </span>
  <em>
    <span>She needs you. That doesn't mean you need her</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I think maybe you forget that. About you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby closes his eyes. He doesn't know what he's feeling. Maybe just tired. But it washes over him like a wave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Luke's sitting on the edge of the bed, towel tied around his waist. His hair is dripping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby watches the water fall down his shoulders, along the muscles of his back. He looks tired, exhausted. Luke always looks exhausted when he stops moving for a second, when the bravado falls away. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He needs you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does need Robby. Robby had never been needed the way Luke needed him; it was as much as Robby needed Luke. It feels unfair to cut and run now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, here he is. He pulls Luke's phone out of his pocket and holds it out. "Hi."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke looks up at him, blinking. His eyelashes are wet. "What?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here. You're on the noon out of Burbank. Trip's gonna pick you up. You should be nicer to him, it really didn't take that much guilt tripping to get him to do it." Robby says it fast, feeling breathless. Miguel's in the car. Robby said he wanted to do it alone and Miguel said </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"I-" Luke shakes his head and then seems to fit himself back into his body, into his awareness. "Robby, I came out here to help you. Did you forget?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No." Robby sighs. "I don't need your help, Luke. You did what I needed you to do. If I need anything else you can do it from Stanford."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want to do it from Stanford," Luke says. "I want to help you here." And then, quietly, "Remember? You said you'd wait for me, when I called it in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sweetheart. Last night I paid you what I owe." Robby's mouth hurts, saying it. It feels impossibly huge. "This place isn't good for you. I think things could be better for you out there, if you let them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke closes his eyes. His eyelashes are dark against his pale winter skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby leans down. Presses his lips to Luke's forehead. "If you give him a single cent more, I will tell your father everything. Do you understand?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke rocks back, like Robby's slapped him. And then a slow, sweet smile drags across his face. "Babe," he says, like he's fucking proud. "Look at you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck off," Robby says. He does mean it. But he also raises his hand, gently, and curls it around Luke's cheek. This feels like a brand new world. "It's gonna be okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Luke sighs. He turns his face to press a kiss to Robby's palm. "Really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're a rich white guy," Robby says, smiling as kindly as he can, heart hammering in his chest. "It's gonna work out."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom flies to her feet when she sees him. She moves so fucking fast; she ran track in high school, almost got a D3 scholarship. Didn't, obviously. Robby's here instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, Mom." She smells like Mom, the familiar floral of her shampoo, the mint of her toothpaste. Robby tucks his face into her shoulder and breathes in deep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My baby," she whispers. Her hands dig into his sides, enough that it hurts, but he doesn't flinch. "Oh, Robby. I'm so glad you're here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too." He lets her lead him to the couch where they always sit, lets her hand him a cup of coffee with too much sugar and curl up right next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Robby was a kid he used to count all these moments, hold them to his chest; the time he got mono, the time he broke his wrist. It always made his mom sad if he let on he was doing it, so he got good at keeping it to himself. But Robby's always known his mom is her own sun; it would be selfish to keep her just for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're quiet, as Robby drinks his coffee and his mom looks him over, like she's drinking in the shape of his face, his eyes, his mouth. Like she's been worried. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Robby was fourteen he spent all his time at his boyfriend's house. His mom wasn't mad, she just moved to a smaller place. Always room for him, she said, but he was never there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn't use to look at him like that, then. When he'd come home for a couple nights, here and there. Not even after Luke left, and Robby had to go home. Not home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mom's couch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I always liked that guy," Robby's mom says, gently. "But you know, I have awful taste in men."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs, chokes on it. "Mom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She's pressing her fingers to his cheek, softly but desperately, like she wants to get closer but doesn't know how. "Fuck, baby. I'm so sorry." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "I- what?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"All of it," she says. "Your shitty dad, your shitty boyfriend, your shitty mom. I really wanted things to be good for you, when you were a baby. I wanted it so much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not your fault." That's easy, automatic. "Mom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs, taps her fingers against his skin. "I didn't know if you were coming back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sorry," Robby says. "I know that was kind of fucked. To call you and then disappear."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She shrugs. She isn't wearing makeup and that reminds him of being a kid, too: just the two of them in their own little apartment, with no boyfriends and no guilt. Just Robby's mom with her hair in a bun, burning pancakes. "Not my first rodeo," she says. "I thought about sending your dad out to get you. I think he'd have done it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus, really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know I still hate your dad," she says, "but he has been trying. With you. Fucking Daniel LaRusso aside."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby hiccups. "Just a little thing," he says. "Tiny."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grins. She is the most beautiful person in the world. Robby knows this, has always known it. "How are you now?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Robby shrugs, surprised to find that he means it. "I went back to my dad's. It's okay. He didn't bullshit me. He knows he fucked up."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" Her smile has all its teeth. Robby's parents are never gonna get along. "Good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks down at the couch. "I - do you think I'm being crazy? I know you didn't like it when I didn't like your boyfriends."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hums, soft. Traces her fingers through his hair. "Well," she says. "Firstly, my boyfriends were all terrible."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not all of them," Robby protests. But yeah. Most of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She ignores him. "Secondly, none of my boyfriends taught you karate and let you live with them. Even when you started dating their kid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sips his coffee. "I just can't believe Mr LaRusso would leave his wife. Like I know you don't know them that well, but they're perfect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby ducks his head. "I know they're not," he says. "Like, obviously. Or they would be together now. Just - you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom doesn't look away. "You know I like Danny," she says. "And Amanda. They've been really good to you, and I'll be grateful for that for the rest of my life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There's a but coming. "Mom?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," she says. She frowns. "I'm just - trying to say this right, honey. I don't want it to come out wrong. And I don't want you to think I'm defending your dad, or taking his side. Because I'm not. I'm on your side."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby can feel the sharpness rolling forward, up his spine, into his teeth. He can feel himself wanting to slide forward onto the balls of his feet. He doesn't fight with his mom, he never has - but everything is different, now. Everything is changing. He doesn't know if he can keep that behind his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn't know if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> to, and that's not something he wants to think about right now. Not with everything that's going on. He just can't.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes one breath, then another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mom waits. She's his </span>
  <em>
    <span>mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And she's always been good at this, at being charming, at saying the right thing. It used to work on him when he was a kid. It still works on him, now. "Robby?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closes his eyes. "Okay. Hit me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A little hitch of her breath. She never hit him. Not once. She wouldn't. "It wasn't just your dad," she says, gently, "who owed you something. Do you think about that?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's eyes open. "What?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She sighs. Cards her fingers through his hair and he doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> her to be doing it, he wants her to </span>
  <em>
    <span>get off him</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>go away, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he can feel that roiling in his belly, like bile or a fight. "Your dad let you down," she says, slowly, carefully. "All those things you said are true. But Danny said he was going to be there for you, too. And he knew how much he meant to you. I'm not - I don't think you should be </span>
  <em>
    <span>angry</span>
  </em>
  <span> with him. But I think -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says. He shakes his head, sharp. "No, Mom. I don't want to talk about this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her fingers flutter. She breathes in and then she backs off. "Okay, baby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay." Robby's heart is racing. He stares up at the ceiling, tracing the little white dots on the ceiling over and over. It's hard to find balance out here, hard to remember that there's tree and root and wind when you're in a little room that smells like old flowers and laundry powder and instant coffee. "Okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom looks worried. Off balance. Robby wants to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you have never once in your life been on my side</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But he doesn't want to say it. He would regret it. He would hate it. She wouldn't want to talk to him, anymore, if he said that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Anyway, I think I can come out early. Like next week. It's not something they encourage, but I think I'll be fine. Being here, with all this stuff that's going on in your life- it doesn't feel right. I want to be here for you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby feels it like he feels everything. God, it had felt so good to call her, to have her say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'll fix it</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He had wanted it so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don't get to have those things, baby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not going to be your excuse," Robby says. He says it as kindly as she said her thing, before. There is no way to make it kind. "I can't. If you want to fuck this up, that can't be my fault, Mom."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She flinches. Her eyes are wide with hurt. She might be tearing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wants to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I'm sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, to take it back, to say </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay it's gonna be fine. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That's what he's supposed to do; it's what he's always done, every time this kind of thing has happened. She needs him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Mom," he whispers. "I can handle it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't want you to have to," she whispers back. She's crying, just a little bit. Trying to hold it back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's whole heart wrenches. He can't - he's supposed to hug her. That's his </span>
  <em>
    <span>job</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "You have to stay in rehab," he says. "You </span>
  <em>
    <span>have to</span>
  </em>
  <span>."  Because if she doesn't all this time, it's not worth it, it was a waste of six months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or: she could have done it on her own this whole time. And she didn't. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's not going to dignify that. That's not right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn't hug her. He just sits there, stiff and cold, while she cries very quietly. It goes on for a long time, longer than he thought it would. It feels like forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He says, "Mom?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. "Yeah," she says, quietly. "Okay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miguel's eating a Slim Jim in Robby's passenger seat, feet up on the dash. "Hey, handsome," he says. "Can I drive?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby was never baptised but he imagines it's supposed to feel something like this, like you step forward and peace washes over you, makes you new. He tosses Miguel the keys. "Sure," he says. "Don't crash." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel rolls his eyes but tears half of his Slim Jim out of his mouth and hands it over. Robby should think it's gross but he fucking loves Slim Jims, so whatever; he takes it but waits for Miguel to come around so he can kiss him against the car door, kind of pushing with a little of the bulk that he has on Miguel, enjoying the way Miguel's lean strength counters him, meets him one for one. "Oh, it's like that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Like what?" Robby takes a bite and slides into Miguel's vacant seat. "Did you leave cheeto dust in here? Come on, man." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Love you, too," Miguel says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both freeze. Robby more than Miguel, Miguel looking at him out of the corner of his eye, carefully, cautiously. Robby can't move. He feels like he's been pinned like a butterfly to a mat. "Are you - really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You said it first," Miguel says, lightly, but Robby can see the tight flex of his jaw, the cording in the muscles of his forearms. "No big deal." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No big?" Robby's breath puffs out of his mouth. "Okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Miguel says. "As long as you don't take it back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What- of course I-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then Miguel's laughing, kind of reckless, a wild hiccuping little sound, and turning to kiss Robby again, his fingers pressing against Robby's jaw and his throat, his mouth on Robby's mouth and then his cheeks, his eyes, the tip of his nose. "I'm fucking glad you came back," he whispers, pressing the words to Robby's skin like if he gets close enough Robby won't put up a fight, will let him just say them without getting all the rest of their shit tangled up in it. "And I'm so proud of you. Every moment." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It catches him like a whirlwind, like a firestorm. He wants to crawl inside Miguel's skin, be as close to him as is possible, be </span>
  <em>
    <span>with him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's been so long since it caught him like </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span>, the raw animality of it, caught up in his chest, in the shake of his hands and the fire in his hips. "Fuck." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel drags in a long, deep, breath. Pulls back, even though Robby makes a soft hurt sound and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>sees</span>
  </em>
  <span> Miguel shiver, hearing it. "We gotta get out of this parking lot," he says. "You have people to see." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby squeezes his eyes shut, digs his hands into his thighs. "What if we just didn't? Do any of those things?" His voice - fuck. He sounds </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrecked.</span>
  </em>
  <span> How did that happen? When did that happen? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel's eyes are hot, heavy, an endless warmth in them. "Really?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really." Robby means it. He thinks this is maybe how Tory felt, like everything made </span>
  <em>
    <span>sense</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like it was just a question of one more step and then - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuck. Tory.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Miguel says. He shakes his head. His hands are - fuck. He pulls them away from Robby and Robby tries not to make a sound, one of those stupid little noises Luke would have laughed about. Fuck Luke, he's not here. "Okay. You need to call Tory, and I need to start driving. Okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stings. "Did I do something?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus." Miguel looks at him, really looks. It takes him a second and then he scrubs his hand across his eyes and squints. "Fuck, are you -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby winces. His head's swimming. "I'm okay," he says. "I just lost it for a second." His dad does it sometimes, just steps out of his body. He tries not to notice it. He tries even more not to see it in himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His head is full of cotton. He wants Miguel to touch him. He doesn't think those two things are the same thing. It's just sometimes shit gets fucked up, in his head. "I have to go to work. I called in sick Thursday. I'm probably late."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good thing you know the boss." Miguel is still looking at him, careful. He hates when Miguel looks at him like this but it also prickles hot at his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory picks up on the third ring. "Jeez," she says. "Don't you ever text?" Her voice sends that same hot shiver through him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Diaz is driving my car," Robby says, leaning back into his seat, "so I kinda want my hands, you know?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her low, easy laugh. "Yeah, okay. What's up?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm putting you on speaker." He holds the phone out between them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel flicks his eyes from the road to the phone and back again. He's not a bad driver at all, just sometimes a little pedal happy. "Hey, Tor."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, babe." There's a crackle, static. "I was just about to shower. It's Saturday morning." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey,</span>
  <em>
    <span> indicate,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel scrunches up his face but hits the indicator, just in time for the turn. "Thanks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anytime." Robby thumbs along the side of his phone and figures it's best to come out with the hard part first. "So, uh, we just almost fucked in the car." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel chokes. "We did not."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's true, we did not," Robby says. "We probably wouldn't have. But -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," she says. Startled at first, and then pleased. Robby's getting good at picking out the emotions in the general aggression Tory calls a default tone of voice. "You wanna wait for me?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says, looking over at Miguel, seeing the sweet curve of his smile. "You good with that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'll think about it," Tory says. "You think you can hold out?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We'll manage," Robby says. "That's a red, Diaz, hit the brakes."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Miguel successfully gets them home, where Robby goes to shower and change his clothes and not make eye contact with his dad, and then he goes to work.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso just looks like Mr LaRusso. It's funny to think like that, because obviously like, people look like themselves. But Robby ran away from Los Angeles and Robby's dad's whole life fell off its hinges because of Mr LaRusso, and here he is, just a slim guy in a nice suit, who gets up when Robby knocks on his office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, Mr LaRusso," Robby says. "Can I come in?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso looks at him, long and careful, like everybody's looking at Robby now. Yeah, he deserves that, considering the last time they spoke Robby was flipping the hell out. "Hey, Robby," he says. "Welcome back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. "I, uh," he says. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For freaking out at you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso steeples his fingers on his desk. "Robby," he says. "Take a seat, okay?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's entire body goes ice cold. He feels it flash across his face and has to step down on it hard, coil whatever kind of unreal sensation his body's trying to let rule him back underneath the grip of his will. He sits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso has this look in his eyes. It's not unkind; it is gentle, cautious, and full of pity. At least when Sam does it she doesn't mean it like that, but Mr LaRusso comes from where Robby did, and that makes it worse. "Your dad said you ran away."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby is almost eighteen. It doesn't feel like </span>
  <em>
    <span>ran away</span>
  </em>
  <span> really makes sense; he went to visit his ex. Sure, that sounds complicated, but it's not like he's 8 with a backpack trying to live in a treehouse. Because there were no treehouses in Robby's North Hills neighbourhood, but that's beside the point. He says, "I shouldn't have flipped out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Mr LaRusso agrees. He leans forward. "Are you feeling better?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My dad didn't tell you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso winces. "Your dad and I aren't talking," he says. "Which I think you know about." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites his lip. "I'm sorry," he says. "I - it's not about you, really. It's about my dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Mr LaRusso says, "but you see how it affects me, too? We aren't individuals. We are, but we're all connected. We all need each other, Robby, and when you pull away like that - it hurts all of us." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows. "Yeah. I can see that." It doesn't feel like a pep talk. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>words</span>
  </em>
  <span> are like a pep talk, like Mr LaRusso is going to follow up with a hug and a hot chocolate. But he's not smiling, not even in his eyes. He always smiles a little bit when he's talking to Robby. That's the thing that made Robby trust him that first time, and all the times after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso takes a long breath. Robby wants to offer him a smoke, even though he doesn't actually have any, and he doubts Mr LaRusso smokes, anyway. He's a coffee guy. "Robby," he says. "I know leaving - separating from Amanda - has been really hard on my kids, and on you. And I'm sorry for that. We were a place of safety and stability for you, and you weren't used to that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounds like he's reading off a cue card. Robby feels like a little kid at a social worker's office, which is not an unfamiliar experience. He wishes he'd been able to train at all this week. He would feel at least a little bit rooted, maybe. Not like this, like someone is taking him and breaking apart the earth beneath his feet, the way you have to do when you re-pot the bonsai.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you get this talk when you were a kid, too?" He doesn't snap it, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>doesn't. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Mr LaRusso has been good to him, and if things have been complicated by Robby's circumstances, that is not a weird thing to have happen to Robby.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso sighs. "Your dad and I," he says. "Things between us are important to me. I've talked to Sam about it, and Anthony, and it's hard for them, too. It's a really difficult transition."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks down at his hands. This morning he was in Luke's bed and now he is here. "Okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"But we need to be able to see each other," Mr LaRusso says. "He's been avoiding me all this week, because he's scared you're gonna leave again. That can't go on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's stomach flips. "I-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know it's hard," Mr LaRusso says. "Change is scary, and it's upsetting. But you have got to trust that we are not going to hurt you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't think you're going to hurt me," Robby says. His tongue feels enormous. It feels like he's having an allergic reaction. Which would make sense, the way his dad avoids talking about his feelings. It could be a genetic thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am </span>
  <em>
    <span>serious</span>
  </em>
  <span> about your dad," Mr LaRusso says. His hands flatten onto the table and he levels that firm, flat gaze at Robby, so Robby can't look away, even though he </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants to</span>
  </em>
  <span>, god, he would give anything to melt through the floor. "And I need you to let go of this thing that you're worried about, because I promise you, it's going to be okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "Really?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He matters to me," Mr LaRusso says, softly. "And you know - look. The karate is hanging on. We're making it work. It'll be even better once we're all on the same page." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby closes his eyes. "I'll talk to him tonight." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Mr LaRusso says. He does get up, then. Comes around the desk and settles his hand on Robby's shoulder. "I'm glad you're back, kid. We all missed you so much." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Work drags long, forever. Robby's off his game, out of it, but thankfully there are a million tasks to be done that don't involve making eye contact with anyone, so that's good. He texts Sam an hour before his shift ends, asks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wanna spar?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She replies, </span>
  <em>
    <span>with you? always </span>
  </em>
  <span>and that's good, a reassuring warm solid fact settling into his chest that carries him all the way through the rest of the workday, into the change of clothes he keeps in his trunk and out into Encino.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He parks out front of the LaRusso house, shading his eyes from the streetlights. She's waiting for him there, in leggings and a crew-neck sweater, bright white sneakers, with her hair piled on top of her head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fun Saturday night," Sam says. Her eyes are that same hot bright that he knows, the fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>challenge</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Missed you, boo."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You too," he says, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>has</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Neither of them has been in the game and they both know it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I got donuts," she says. "You want 'em now or after?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"After," he decides. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Sam. He doesn't feel about Sam the way he does about Tory or Miguel. It's a kind of bone-deep ease instead of that overwhelming thrill. It was confusing, before, because nobody had ever meant that to him: to feel care without getting something out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They warm up with kata. Her breath is his and back again. Sam learned all of this when she was a little kid and to her it's like breathing. It's not that she doesn't enjoy it, because she does. It's a familiar grace that comes over her, the reminder of how it was to be alive when the world was clearer and sharper, kinder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not like that for Robby. For Robby everything is new and every movement is a weapon, a gift, something that proclaims </span>
  <em>
    <span>I am here, I belong. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Skating used to be like that but he was never quite good enough, not to have people stop and stare. Now he doesn't need to have that, because he feels </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Whole. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then, the sparring. They're not on the wheel; this isn't a matter of balance, or harmony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a matter of Sam's fist coming at him and his foot going at her, the hot salt rhythm that isn't a rhythm, that is the world fighting to put itself in alignment, and moving through Robby to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They flop down on the grass next to the pool, Sam spreading her arms and legs like a starfish or a snow angel, Robby just grateful to be down and horizontal. He puts his face in the grass and drags deep breaths into his lungs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel Sam itching to break it down beside him. She thinks about fights like other people think about grammar; she knows that things should make sense, not why or how, but once she can see what's happened she'll be able to tell you what you should have done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel and Tory aren't really like that. Neither is Robby's dad: they learned a whole different kind of karate. That lands different, without the same sense of grace. That doesn't make it worse, and Robby's learned to use some of it - the relentlessness of it, the drive, that matches up with his own innate disposition - but it means -</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think I have an idea," he starts. "For how to get the dojo back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam puts her sweaty hand over his face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck?" Her palm is flattening over his mouth, distorting the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just checking to make sure everything is there," she says. "That you haven't sprouted scales." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you," he says, but he's laughing. "Shut up and listen, already."</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>"Please," Kreese says. "Like you've never wanted to strangle your dad."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Well, yeah. But I've never done it."</p><p>"Well," Kreese says. "Maybe you should think about it, one of these days." He makes a big show of looking at the clock. "You still have three hours to be tried as a minor."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm SORRY we are STILL HERE i am just editing SLOWLY like  a baby snail. here is a chapter where pretty much everyone is happy??????? wow ?????????? robby keene look at u GO, sweet angel baby!</p><p>content: shan in rehab, historical death by neglect of a pet fish</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Robby gets home around nine. It's dark out and his hair is wet and cold, which is an appealing combination (said nobody, ever); the sweat from earlier has mostly dried. There's a light on in the living room and he's not surprised to hear sounds from the TV. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cracks the door and steps in. Three heads rotate towards him, in unison. Fucking snakes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad is in the armchair, feet up on the coffee table. He's got a couple empties beside him, but that doesn't mean anything; nobody in this apartment cleans up after himself. Tory and Miguel are on the couch, Miguel sprawling along it and Tory lying on top of him, yawning into his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is depressing," Robby says. He strips his hoodie off and drops it on top of his duffle; he'll do laundry tomorrow. Maybe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory lifts her head from Miguel's chest. "I think it's uplifting, actually. Intergenerational bonding."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad raises his Coors. "Hey, kid."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know you don't live here," Robby observes. He rubs his fingers over his right rib, where he missed the block and Sam's foot connected. She pulled the hit but it still hurts. "It's a Saturday night and you're hanging out with your karate teacher. It's like a Netflix doc about a serial killer waiting to happen."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel rolls his eyes. "Come over here and say it to my face."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs. "Sure thing, baby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm right here," Robby's dad complains, but he loves Miguel and Miguel's smiling in that easy way he gets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Robby just grins and goes to press a kiss to Miguel's mouth and then one to Tory's, pushing his way onto the couch with both their legs draped over his thighs. "Hi." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right here!" Robby's dad repeats, squawking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory reaches up to smooth his hair away from his face. "We're learning new martial arts styles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shh," Robby's dad says. "This is the good part."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the screen one white guy is staring at another white guy. It's kind of homoerotic so Robby can see why he'd like it so much. He sighs and tips his head back against the top of the couch, lets his hands settle flat on his boyfriend and girlfriend and just floats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The credits roll across the screen, some 80s power ballad blaring. Robby has no idea what happened in the movie and doesn't care. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says, flicking his fingertips against Tory's calf, and then Miguel's. His thighs are half-asleep from their combined weight on him but he doesn't really mind. "Go home."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Excuse me," Tory says, mock offended. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wanna talk to my dad," Robby says, loud enough that his dad won't miss it. "I'll see you guys tomorrow."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory chews the inside of her mouth, considering. "Deal."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I missed you, too," Robby says. "A lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Miguel who gets up, sliding Tory forwards against Robby's chest and then offering her a hand off the couch. "Okay, okay. We're going." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks," Robby says. He doesn't walk them out but he does blow Tory a kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the door shuts they sit in silence for a little while, while the channel shifts to infomercials. Robby sighs and gets up to turn the TV off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby thinks about Sam, about how his lungs were burning when the realization hit him, how he tangled his hands in the grass and thought, </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay, yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> "Can we talk?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beer clinks into the table. Robby's dad lifts those clear sea-blue eyes and looks at him. "Sure." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I want you to spar with me," Robby says. He doesn't let himself shift from foot to foot, even though he wants to; he remembers how it felt when Sam pushed him into the grass, when he sprung back up. "And I want you to take it seriously."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I take everything about you seriously," Robby's dad says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah." But Robby smiles, a little; his dad is earnest these days, honest. It's nice to be around. It's almost like Robby didn't hop on a plane. Robby's dad has never cut him slack for anything, basically. But now he treats Robby like he's a </span>
  <em>
    <span>kid</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>his</span>
  </em>
  <span> kid, and it's nice but it's also too much to bear. He digs his nails into his palms. "You too drunk for it?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Nah," Robby's dad says. He uncracks himself from the chair, stretches to his full height. Robby forgets that he's tall, because he's used to talking shit, getting as big as he can in his dad's face. But he's big. "Let's go out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby feel his spine straighten, feels his pulse pick up. "Yeah?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not putting up a new TV," Robby's dad says. "It's fuckin' work. It takes forever."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is: Robby hasn't really seen his dad fight. Sure, there's 80s footage, and Robby's seen him train Miguel and Tory, not to mention the rest of his kids. And Robby's been sparring with Miguel and Tory since before they got together; he knows how his dad likes them to move, how he taught them to push forward, always forward, never stopping. He knows what it's like to be on the other side of </span>
  <em>
    <span>strike first, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and Mr LaRusso taught him exactly how to counter that, how to wait and wait and wait.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that's different from actually seeing his </span>
  <em>
    <span>dad</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Miguel says he really doesn't do it much, and says </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> with a cautious kind of longing. It makes sense, because the first time Miguel really met Robby's dad Robby's dad saved him. Even seeing Robby's dad get beat up by Kreese hasn't affected that first association: the idea that Robby's dad is a superhero.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not Robby. Robby used to see his dad get in stupid shit all the time. Throw a punch, take a hit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not like </span>
  <em>
    <span>real </span>
  </em>
  <span>fighting, not the karate that Mr LaRusso taught Robby or the kind Robby's dad is teaching the snakes. That was drunk fighting. It's different. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows that his dad and Mr LaRusso have played around, too, but not where anyone can see them. Ugh. Thinking about that is both gross and unsettling, and Robby doesn't want to do it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The point is: Robby knows his dad, and he knows </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span> his dad fights, but knowing and seeing - and being on the other end of it - is a completely different thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel fights the most like his dad, that's what everyone says. Unless they say it's Hawk, but Robby actually likes his dad so he's going to put that one to the back of his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's true, though. Hawk is reckless with his rage; he's out of control, just directing the tidal wave of energy in the direction of his opponent. He's not leashing it, he's riding it, carried along. When Robby lost against him he was trying to do the same, thinking his own anger would be enough to counter Hawk's. Maybe it would have been, if he'd known how to breathe through it, but he hadn't. It had left him hollowed-out, empty, exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel isn't like that. Not controlled like Robby is. When Robby fights the world moves through him, but when Miguel fights it's with anger in every moment, behind every hit and block and breath. Miguel you can stop, though. He gets sloppy; he gets tired. He lets the irritation rise to the fore. You can take advantage of it. You can see through the movements. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(It's not like that with Sam. With Sam every breath is automatic; she knows how to move, how to block. Those things are as much a reflex as breathing.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fighting Robby's dad is like - Christ. It's like fighting the ocean. Robby is used to training with Mr LaRusso, and has had his ass </span>
  <em>
    <span>saved</span>
  </em>
  <span> by Mr LaRusso on more than one occasion. Mr LaRusso is elemental, too. To fight Mr LaRusso is simply beyond the scope of Robby's attention, because he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>so fast</span>
  </em>
  <span> and so smart; he's always moving, you can't touch him. It's like fighting the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby fights like that. He trusts himself, his intuition; he trusts that his body knows what it needs to do, that he can feel his opponent and anchor himself in what must be done.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad is </span>
  <em>
    <span>endless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He is as pressing as a tidal wave. He blocks hit after hit and does not tire, simply smirks; he pushes forward, relentless, until Robby's falling, and then he picks him up and does it again and again </span>
  <em>
    <span>and again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Robby says, holding out his hand so his dad can pull him up. "You've been holding out on me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad rakes his fingers through his messy hair, curls the fingers of the other hand around Robby's wrist and yanks him up. "You're welcome," he says. "That's eight-odd years of your step-grandfather's money put to good use."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby hums. His feet are steady. He feels good. Feels alive. Like a garden after a long rain. His chest hurts, and his thighs, and his fists. It's a good ache. It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're here</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's </span>
  <em>
    <span>you're not going anywhere. </span>
  </em>
  <span>"Best thing he ever did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad crooks the edge of his mouth up. "Yeah," he says, barely sweating in the lamplight, with the moonlight pressing against his face. "That's about right."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They go inside, into their little apartment where everything smells faintly of spilled Coors and dirty laundry. Robby hits the light switch and the room brightens. It takes his eyes a moment to adjust, where he has to lean against the wall and take a breath. He hadn't realized how exhausted he was until he stopped moving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad hands him a bag of peas. "For your ribs." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thanks." Robby doesn't hiss but it's a close thing; fuck, that's cold. It's good, though, he needs it. "Felt good, though. I had fun."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too." Robby's dad grins. "Turns out all that drinking pond water was good for something, huh?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." But Robby feels the air change. Of course it would; Mr LaRusso's ghost has been here the whole time but they've been studiously ignoring him. Now that Robby's dad has invited him in all the edges are sharp. Robby shakes his head and takes a seat on one side of the couch, pressing his palm to his peas.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad sits down on the other end. Not in the armchair, but not right up against Robby: a compromise. Robby figures since his dad just spent forty minutes beating him into the ground he probably doesn't have to worry so much about proximity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's quiet, only the sound of Robby's harsh breathing in his own ears. It takes him a second to realize his dad's breathing is heavy, too; good. At least Robby wasn't humiliating himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You wanna talk about work?" Robby's dad asks, gently. "Or where you were last night? You only have to give me one. But at least one."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Ugh." It feels kind of like it was with Luke, which is fucked up, since it's the most normal dad shit Robby's dad has done in a while. He wraps one arm around his knee. "I asked Mom to finish rehab. I think she will."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad breathes out, long and harsh. "That's real good of you, Robby."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks down at his hands. "It had to be done. She's not okay, right now. She needs to be okay."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What about you? Do you get to be okay?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who are you and what have you done with my dad?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad barks a laugh. "I deserve that." The steady weight of his gaze remains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was with Sam." Robby rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. "She said her mom got wine drunk and started crying. She said her mom said -" He cuts himself off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad has made a low, soft, sound. Like he is in pain. But Robby didn't get that many good hits in, only the one on his thigh. "No, keep going." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby bites his lip. "She said that she didn't know what was going on with Sam's dad. That he wasn't the man she married. Ever since you got into the picture."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad closes his eyes. "Yeah," he says. "I can see that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He talked to me about it," Robby says. "Mr LaRusso. About you and him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck," Robby's dad sighs. He rubs at the bridge of his nose. "I fucking told him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay." Robby means it. He's used to reading between the lines, and he's used to being collateral damage. It stings a little that it's Mr LaRusso, but he'll get over it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not," Robby's dad says. "Okay, spit it out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He was just - he really misses you. I don't think he would have said it like that to me if he didn't have to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad shuts the fridge door and turns around, resting his back against it. "Did he tell you it was a midlife crisis, too?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks down at his knees. "He said he'd been waiting for you his whole life."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Jesus," says Robby's dad. "Fuck." He must have really felt it because his knees buckle, just a little, and he presses the back of his head against the fridge door. "Fucking LaRusso."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Robby teases. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad snorts. "That's how I got into this mess, I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby swallows around the lump in his throat. "I don't want to fuck things up for you. I know I freaked out, but  Mr LaRusso really thinks it's going to be fine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's optimistic," Robby's dad says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So are you," Robby says. "About him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is this you apologizing?" Robby's dad asks. "I'm not asking for that, just so you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks. "I don't think so," he says. "Maybe?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit," Robby's dad says. He rakes his fingers through his hair, again, and then he comes back to Robby, settling back down on the carpet by Robby's feet, even though his knees have got to be killing him. "What did he want you to tell me?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust his dad. He knows that he shouldn't, in his brain, because of the entirety of his life experience and also his ability to use common sense. But his body just let his dad toss him into the ground over and over, felt his dad pull the hits and then pick him up off the ground like it was nothing, like he was just a kid. And it's late, and Robby's tired, and he's running on that, now. Just the body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think he wanted me to tell you that you guys should get back together. Because he misses you, and it's gonna be okay." Robby tries to keep his voice level, not emotional or anything stupid like that. "He told me that I would be okay. That I would get over it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>," hisses Robby's dad. He gets a certain kind of mad at Mr LaRusso and it's hot, flaring up in his eyes now. The kind of sharpness that you get because you know someone, because it matters when they disappoint you, or when they prove to be something they aren't. He puts his hands on Robby's knees, one on each kneecap, the fingers huge like they were when Robby was very small. "Listen to me. You don't have to get over anything. You don't want this, you don't want it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's a good man," Robby says. He sounds helpless, like a little kid. "He really did save me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, Robby," Robby's dad says. His whole face is still, like the surface of the moon. "It's okay. You did what he asked. I'll figure the rest of it out." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" Robby feels himself yawn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really," Robby's dad says. He gets up and takes Robby's peas away. "Those are done. You want me to wrap it?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No, it's okay." Robby lets his eyelids fall half-shut. "I don't wanna go to bed. Can you - would it be okay if we just kept hanging out? Just for a little." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad sucks in a breath, like Robby's kicked him right in the neck. "Of course," he says. "Anytime, Robby. I'll get you some new peas."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby scrubs his hand over his mouth and watches his dad move around the kitchen, around this place where they live and are safe. He really doesn't move like he moves when he fights. When Robby's dad fights he is untouchable but here, in ratty sneakers sifting through the freezer, he just looks old and tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby hums and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. Thinks about Sam, about talking to Sam and fighting with Sam and the thing that he was thinking, the kind of tiny ember that is now blossoming, just the tiniest bit, into something bigger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So what's the plan, kid?" Robby's dad sits down next to him, again. Their shoulders brush each other and the Coors Robby's dad hands him is cool and a little slippery. The bag of mixed carrots and corn is less slippery and more cold; Robby lets that press against his thigh, where a broad ache is starting to make itself known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who says there's a plan?" Robby asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese fights like Robby's dad. Well: Robby's dad fights like Kreese. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby doesn't. Robby's the only one who doesn't. (Except Sam, and this isn't Sam's business. She doesn't deserve to get caught up in it.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad smiles, sweeter now than worried. "You got your mom's tells," he says. "I can read Shannon better than a book."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, I bet." Robby means it to be a dig about how his dad doesn't read. It comes out jumbled, instead, kind of helpless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad doesn't call him on it. Just keeps that steady gaze. "So?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He doesn't really care about them," Robby says. "The kids. Any of them. He's just trying to get to you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad wrinkles his forehead. "And?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm the best way to get to you." Robby looks down. "Obviously, Miguel, but - I'm the weak link. He tried going through Mr LaRusso, but it didn't work. And nobody would believe Miguel if he switched sides. Me, though - I'm convincing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad doesn't say anything. He looks towards the window, which is dark; the light catches on his pale eyebrows, on the stubble he hasn't shaved. "You take after your mom like that," he says. "I can't lie for shit."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Robby says. "I told Luke to get out. If that helps."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah?" Robby's dad's eyes are bright. "That fucking guy."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't know the half of it," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know I'd like to." Robby's dad's voice is gentle. He rests a heavy hand on Robby's good knee. "Since you're offering to do this thing for me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's stupid but it helps, making it one for one, a transaction. That's a sign that Robby is fucked up. But Robby's dad is fucked up, too, and it used to ruin everything but now it feels like maybe they have another place where they align. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not really for </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Robby says. "I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend in your weird snake cult."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, overachiever," Robby's dad says. His shoulder is broad against Robby's; he is so broad, as a person. He takes up so much space.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wants to tuck his face into that shoulder. Well, not that shoulder. It's just how he feels when he thinks about Luke. "Sometimes I feel like I won't ever stop loving him," he says. "But I think that's just because I was young when we met."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I almost kicked Kreese out before he ever got his claws in," Robby's dad says. "I didn't want anything to do with him. I knew better." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shifts his peas back up to his chest, wedging them in with his elbow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was going to do it," Robby's dad says. "And then I found out he was staying in a homeless shelter and I couldn't leave him there. I just couldn't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's stomach turns. "Seriously?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby's dad shrugs, rueful. "Fucking stupid. I knew it was gonna bite me in the ass but I thought it would just be me. And I couldn't just leave him, because he saved my life, right? I wouldn't have been tough without him. Sid would have eaten me alive." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sid got me a bike when I was seven," Robby says. "It was a good bike." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad blinks and then he laughs. "Fucking Sid. A fucking bike. He would." But the air is a little less tight, so he shakes his head and continues. "Every time he touched me I could feel how bad it was. How stupid it would be. I'm not a kid, so. I figured it would be okay. And then he went for the kids and I was gone. It was too late."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why would you let him in?" Robby asks. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>knows</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He knows. "Why wouldn't you just not let him hurt you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand on Robby's knee squeezes once, and then Robby's dad is wrapping his arms around Robby, pulling him in close. He smells like sweat and beer and a little bit like peas and his breath is ragged, unsteady. "If I could take it back-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I would do it again," Robby says, quietly, into his dad's worn cotton t-shirt. "I don't want to. I wish I wouldn't. But he just made me feel like I mattered. He still makes me feel like I matter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That kid ever comes back here," Robby's dad murmurs, "I will beat him to a pulp. You understand? Now you know I can do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "He would call the cops in a second."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It'd be worth it." Robby doesn't need to ask if his dad means it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby says, "We had sex the first time we met. It was kind of weird, at the time. And also after. But I liked it, because I liked him. And also because everyone likes sex. I guess I just - I thought that someone wanting to spend time with me was weird, I thought he was going to figure out that he didn't actually want me, and I was so scared of that that I just couldn't." He hasn't opened his beer. He doesn't really want to. "I really wanted someone to like being with me. Which is fucked up, I know. He told me. But he didn't stop doing it, and it was nice to belong somewhere, to someone. I think maybe that's how Hawk feels."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's hard to think about it from a distance. He explained it to Miguel once, and that was fine. But it's different, with Robby's dad. Especially now that he knows about Kreese. Especially now that he knows there's someone who can make his dad buckle like Luke does Robby. Or: like Luke </span>
  <em>
    <span>did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think it's genetic?" Robby asks. "Letting people treat us like shit?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby's dad says. "Because I thought about coming to find you every fucking day of my life. And every fucking day I didn't." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh." Robby’s fingers catch on his own thighs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was scared I was gonna fuck you up like he fucked me up. Like all of them fucked me up. And then I just made it worse."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "I mean, I was the one who had sex with him. So." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad looks at him. "Okay," he says. "I know you don't want to hear this, because you're a big kid, and you're strong, and you've been taking care of yourself a long time. Trust me, when I was your age-" he shakes his head. "But now I'm a teacher. I spend all day with kids and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Robby. None of it was your fault. None of it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you like, taking a class in affirmations?" Robby asks. "Did Miguel make you go see the guidance counsellor?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He really tried," Robby's dad says. He is so strong and stable and he is holding on to Robby for what feels like the first time in Robby’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're so lucky Miguel is so smart," Robby says. "Hawk's a fucking weird kid though. Like, fucking weird." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He works hard," Robby's dad says. "He wants it. And he loves those kids."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tory's really worried," Robby says. "Miguel, too. But he's kind of mad, so he's not as worried. Tory's just worried."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's the one I really fucked up with," Robby's dad says. "I mean, you, obviously. But I taught Hawk to lean into his anger and then I just tossed him in front of -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Someone who knows how to use anger," Robby offers. "And vulnerability."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No mercy," Robby's dad says, quietly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No mercy," Robby agrees.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It's Sunday, and Robby is wide awake. Tomorrow is going to be his birthday. He's not going to do anything about it, because he's not a kid. He'll be eighteen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Eighteen</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So instead of any of that shit he's sitting with Tory on the hood of the Camry, outside the apartment complex, passing a cigarette back and forth like they're thirteen or something. It's nice, though, because this way they're leaning against each other. It feels intimate in a way that doesn't make Robby want to strip off his own skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What's going on with Hawk?" Robby asks. "He's talking to you, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not happily," Tory says. She hands the smoke over and combs her fingers through her hair before she divides it into sections and begins to braid. "But yeah. Don't tell Miguel."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Really?" It's not like the last time they kept something from Miguel went </span>
  <em>
    <span>well</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It's not like Robby is fucking burned out on secrets, like, enough for the rest of his god damn life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean," Tory says. "He knows. But he doesn't like thinking about it, I don't think." She yawns. "Hey, do you wanna fuck?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tory!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, with Miguel," she says. "But also you look wired and I'm wired and it was fun last time. So." It takes him a second to look at her, really look, pick through the spikiness of her twisted-up mouth and her firm antagonistic shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he says. He blows smoke over his shoulder and cocks his head. "You good?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It freaked me out when you left," she says, frowning into the end of her braid. "That you could just leave like that. It scared me. I guess I always thought, like, Miguel had the feelings, you know? For all of us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tor." He stubs the cigarette out and tosses it to the pavement. "You know me and you are -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>," she says. "I just - I was telling myself it was mostly about him for a long time. Longer than I was supposed to. And I knew it wasn't really, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span> you and me were you and me, but it just." She purses her lips. "This thing with Hawk's so fucked up, the way Sensei's fucked up between you and Hawk and Kreese and LaRusso, and Miguel's a pretzel about it." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't have to be cool," Robby says. "With me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She blinks, eyelashes black with mascara, and then she laughs. "Thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I do want to," Robby says. "Have sex. And I know Diaz does, obviously. Are you-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She tips her head against his shoulder. "It feels better knowing you and I won't fuck it up," she says. "That was what I was scared about. But I know I can handle it, now. So if you can-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about telling Luke </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He thinks about sending Luke away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then he thinks about Miguel: about his big hands and the way they settle on Robby's hips when they're kissing, the way they press into Robby's shoulders and belly and thighs when they're sparring. He thinks about Miguel's startled bright laugh, about the way Robby sometimes catches him watching Robby, like it's incredible that he's here, that he's doing whatever it is he's doing, eating or sleeping or complaining about video games.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinks about Tory, too. About her broad smile, the one with all the teeth; how she doesn't let anyone touch her with tensing up, just a little, except for Miguel and now Robby, too. About the way Tory kissed him, about how when they fucked that first time he had felt entirely and completely safe, like nothing could go wrong. Like they were going to figure it out together and if it didn't go quite right she'd laugh and maybe they'd go get 24 hour pizza or something from a mini-mall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," he says. "I can handle it now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wraps her arm around his waist. He can feel the muscle of her bicep and forearm against his back. It's nice. It's good. Both of them are strong. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sit there for a while, watching the cars go past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The thing is," she says, after he's completely forgotten about the start of the conversation, "Hawk is scared. That's who he is. He was so scared before your dad, like all the fucking time, and now he's scared that something will go wrong and he'll be just as scared as he was before." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs. It makes sense. "That's not why I started doing karate," he says. "I just wanted to be less angry all the time. And I wanted Mr LaRusso to like me." That's not the whole story, obviously. It's bigger, deeper. But maybe he doesn't want to think about Mr LaRusso, so much, right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Tory says. "I  could take care of myself. Like you. I just wanted to make it a little easier. It wasn't like, one or the other. Before and after. But that's what it's like with him." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And Miguel?" The way Miguel talks about Robby's dad, that's what it should be like for him, too. That dividing line before and after, the world where Miguel was nothing and the one where he matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think it might be hardest for him," Tory says, wrinkling her nose against Robby's cheek. "Because he does know. I don't know if he was scared just like Hawk, but he definitely wasn't punching kids out for fucking with him. But he's not scared. He doesn't - there isn't a world where shit goes wrong and he falls apart. And he can't see that for Hawk there is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Shit." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm astute," Tory says, wryly. "So that's how it is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He should be nicer to Demetri," Robby says. "I know you like him, but fuck, he should be nicer to Demetri." Demetri is scared all the time but he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>okay</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He lets it carry him along, like a wave. Robby admires it. He’s never been able to lean into shit, not the things that hurt him or the ones that don’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think I don't know that? I'm not his fuckin' mom." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel, finally, finally, is coming down the sidewalk. He's wearing jeans and a sweater with a coffee stain just under the collar, hair sticking up. "Where are we going?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory raises an eyebrow at Robby. "You want to train, right?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What Robby </span>
  <em>
    <span>wants</span>
  </em>
  <span> - what's itching at him, under his skin, trying to claw its way out of him - is to see Hawk and the rest of the kids at Cobra Kai. To talk to Kreese. To say </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. But that's stupid because you can't save other people, you can only help them save themselves, make things safe and good so they can take the steps they want. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knows what Kreese is like. He knows that whatever's going on with Hawk he's hearing something that isn't true, but he probably believes it. Robby thought he would be prepared to deal with Kreese and he wasn't. He went to pieces, fell apart. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> prepared to deal with someone, and he's pretty sure that someone is Hawk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And if that doesn't work, well. Hawk doesn't know how Robby fights but Robby sure as fuck knows how the snakes move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Miguel says. His hand is in front of Robby's nose. "Robby?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby leans forward to kiss the tips of Miguel's fingers. "Hi. Sorry. I'm back. I do want to train, yeah. Is that cool?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine with me," Miguel says. "I love getting my ass kicked, as you know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You really do," Tory says. "Is that, like, a thing? Is that gonna be a thing?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel blinks, confused, and then the realization dawns and his whole face flushes a dark pink. "Come on!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's fine," Tory says, grinning, wide and sweet. "You know we're on board for whatever, Diaz."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says, hooking his fingertip through Miguel's collar, reeling him in. "Safe space, baby. You want Tor to tie you up?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you," Miguel says, visibly vibrating. He's not mad, just charged up. He's so relaxed about it; there's no animosity there, no irritation. He doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>mind. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It's just another reminder that things don't have to be like they were for Robby, before. That he can tease Miguel and Miguel will simply get flustered and then Robby will kiss him and everything will continue as it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thinks about that for the drive out to the woods, where Robby's dad has been training his students. Tory's rolled the windows down and Robby is lying on his back in the backseat, letting the sun fall on his face. It's fucking nice, is what it is. It's like nothing else outside them can get in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's cold, obviously, because it's February, but the air is that kind of clear that it gets in winter, lancing through the bare-fingered canopies of the leafless trees. They walk for a little, crunching through dead leaves and sharp air, the sun shining brightly onto Tory's braid and Miguel's cheekbones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here?" There's a clearing, close enough to the one where Mr LaRusso taught Robby to balance on a tree. It took forever; his bruises had bruises. But it was good after that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure." Tory stretches her arms above her head, and then cracks her knuckles. "You wanna do tournament rules?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was wondering," Robby says, heart in his mouth despite himself, "if I could teach you some kata? And we could do them together?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel blinks. "The like - meditation? That's what it is?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah." Robby shrugs. "Kind of. It's like a warmup but you just focus. It feels really good, you're like, in touch with yourself. With the whole world, really." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Did you get high without me?" Tory asks. "C'mon, man." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He waves his hand at her. "I don't know. I just thought it would be cool. We don't have to."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel narrows his eyes at Tory, clearly a message. "Yeah," he says, "we want to. We think it'd be cool. Is it gonna have handstands, though? Because I can't fuckin' do those."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You'll get it eventually," Robby says. His face hurts. He's smiling. He feels - "I'm just really happy to be here," he says. "I know everything's complicated and shit but I -" He runs out of steam, bites his lip instead.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay," Tory says, softly. "Us, too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The kata isn't hard to pick up, especially since Tory and Miguel are familiar with the basic movements, have shifted their bodies into those same positions with the same muscle memory that Robby's drilled into his own. The sunlight falls in long bars across the ground and the air stings in the way it does when it's so clean you forget where you came from, forget that there's a city and it made you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory starts to chafe more quickly, wants to move faster, to get to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>point</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Robby says, "Just wait, okay? Please?" and she sighs but she shifts into the position and he watches her shoulders roll back, watches her eyelids flutter shut. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel watches Robby carefully, intently. He's a good student in that way, which Robby ought to know since he's, of course, Robby's dad's favourite. But he </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>easy to teach and more than that he wants to do what Robby wants, which is a rush, kind of alarming, that someone like Miguel would put his trust in someone like Robby. Usually it scares him but here in the woods Robby allows it to simply flood through him, like sunshine; he takes it as a gift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He calls out the movements and they flow together, from one stance to the next. It's not like it is with Sam, never will be, but it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it's </span>
  <em>
    <span>exciting. </span>
  </em>
  <span>It's like he opened his heart and they're walking in, both of them, giving him what they have which is attention, kindness, care. And faith. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That was boring," Tory complains, hooking her chin over Miguel's shoulder, but her cheeks are red and her hair is spiralling from the braid. "Is that what you do all the time? Just float around? No wonder Sam's got such a stick up her ass." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Robby says, mildly - because Tory is here, and she's smiling, moving with the easy fluidity that is what he wanted to give her. "Sam's nice."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, yeah." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel cuts her off. "It was nice," he says, slowly, reaching out to take Robby's hand in his. He rubs his thumb over the pulse point at Robby's wrist and Robby does his best not to shiver. "It was like everything was clearer, you know? Even the air."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby beams, can't help himself. "Yeah," he says. "Thank you. That's what I wanted to show you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel is looking at Robby, soft in the eyes, soft around the mouth. There is so much tenderness in the way Miguel can look at you; it could crack you open, rip you apart. But he never does. He only reaches out his careful hand and then Robby steps forward, into the lean strength of him, and presses a kiss to his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," Robby whispers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thank you," Miguel whispers back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So," Tory drawls. "Can we kick the shit out of each other yet, or do you two want to braid each others’ hair?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls his eyes but he steps out of Miguel's hands and lets the grin spread sharp across his face. "Sure thing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory and Miguel fight like each other. It's not bad; it's like how Robby and Sam fight the same. Like they can fit between each other's block and strike, because it's familiar the way a breath is.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby likes to watch it, always has. It's so sharp, the way they fight; reckless, relying on speed and strength rather than rigorous strategy. He likes watching them fight each other. Did from the beginning, even when he didn't like either of them, when hanging out with Miguel was just something that pissed his dad off and didn't remind him of all the ways his life was falling apart. Watching a good fight is something else, something joyful. A rush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory pulls him up by the wrist, drawing him in. "Be fast this time," she says. "Don't trip over your own feet."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's rude but whatever, Robby's in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's cool from the kata, sore from Sam and his dad, but Robby is like that; it anchors him, reminds him whose skin he is in. Reminds him that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>asked </span>
  </em>
  <span>for this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's </span>
  <em>
    <span>good</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Usually he's slower than they are, has to take the time to throw a good block and breathe, think about the next movement, the way to go. But now his muscle memory is kicking in, the way his dad </span>
  <em>
    <span>pushed and pushed</span>
  </em>
  <span> pulling him through. He doesn't stop. It's fucking electric. It's like having a river flow through you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh, fuck," he says, kneeling with his elbow on Miguel's throat. "This is what it's like for you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory laughs her low rough laugh. "Yeah," she says, coming over to press a kiss to Robby's cheek. "That's what it's like when you don't do all your pussy breathing shit." </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby is kind of drowsing with his head in Tory's lap. She's petting him like he's a cat, fingers soft through his hair. It feels really good, even though Robby's ass is kind of damp from all the leaves. He's worn out; he bounced back and forth between the two of them until he could strike fast enough, hard enough, to make Miguel nod in approval. They've bulldozed his Miyagi-do desire to wait and it makes him feel like he's </span>
  <em>
    <span>powerful</span>
  </em>
  <span>, like there's something inside him he can unlock. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Miguel said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>see? Told you you'd like the snake shit if you gave it a try.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Which is bullshit, but he's not complaining.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over his head, Tory and Miguel are talking. He's heard Hawk's name a couple of times, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kreese</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but he isn't paying close attention: he's got endorphins and the sunshine. He lets his fingers settle on Tory's knee, feels her other hand fold over his palm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know what else there is to say to him," Miguel says, quietly. "I can only say </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's going to toss you aside like trash</span>
  </em>
  <span> so many times. And I can't just keep my mouth shut."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," she says. "Don't, okay? I'm being his friend and I'm doing my best, just like you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel sighs. "Sorry. I know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby yawns. "We need to prove it," he says. "You gotta see it to believe it. Like how I thought Luke still loved me until he let his friend punch me in the face." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uplifting, Swayze," Tory says, tightening her hand in his hair. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I got you, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she is saying, and it is transparent but he doesn't mind, he likes it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm serious," he says, propping his chin up on her knee. "What does Kreese want more than anything? My dad. What's better than that?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory breathes out through her nose. "You." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me," Robby agrees. He turns his face back into her thigh. "Can we get Chipotle?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They complain the whole drive out of the woods. Miguel Robby expected, because he's like that; he's sweet, genuinely and truly. That's why Robby would do this for him, because he wouldn't ever think to ask. Tory, on the other hand, is just being difficult on purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You just got back from a very bad decision," Tory's saying, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "And you want to just jump into another one?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well, technically the one leads into the other," Robby says. "Because I wouldn't know that Kreese owes me big if I hadn't gone to Stanford." Because, well. It was Luke's money, but it wouldn't have gone to Kreese if it wasn't for Robby. So that makes it Robby's money. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The last time you saw Kreese was a shit show," Miguel says. At least he's apologetic about it. "I mean, not for you. For all of us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Don't worry," Robby says. "I remember." Like he could forget. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel makes a soft little sound. "Robby-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's okay, Diaz," Robby says. "It won't be about him. It'll be about everyone else."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hawk doesn't like you," Miguel says. This is a very kind version of the truth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He doesn't hate him," Tory says mildly. "It's complicated."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm sick of talking about it," Robby says. "We just don't like each other, okay? It's not a big deal. It wouldn't matter if we didn't have to see each other so much. But we do."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to," Miguel says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They have to," Tory says, firmly. "I get it, though. Like me and LaRusso. Except fuck that bitch."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tory, she's my best friend!" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, sorry, fuck that bitch </span>
  <em>
    <span>gently.</span>
  </em>
  <span>" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sighs. "Can we not do this now?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory flicks her eyes across the car, searching his face. "Okay."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It is a nice fucking Sunday, just the three of them. He knows they must have carved it out for him on purpose; they don't live lives where they can simply vanish and settle into a warm blanket fort and never emerge. But here they are, in the sunlight. Stanford was cold and rainy and overcast and here it is better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He catches himself staring at Miguel, the hot press of Miguel's hand on his hip, the curve of Tory's mouth, the line of her throat. It burns inside him, a slow steady fire that doesn't catch him off guard, simply settles into every movement. Something to live with, to carry with him. They're not hiding from it anymore, just waiting for the moment to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's gonna be fun, he thinks. It's been a minute since sex was fun, like that. He's looking forward to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's been a </span>
  <em>
    <span>good day.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby's learned some new moves, he's had some food, he got pleasantly high with his boyfriend and his girlfriend, everyone made out, and all of that was excellent. He is </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy.</span>
  </em>
  <span> There is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>plan.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He is going to kick some sense into Hawk via kicking him in the face. Everything is going to be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thing is: Robby still doesn't know how to be happy. That's the only explanation he can think of, because why the hell else would he have walked all the way to the mini-mall in the dark? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Get fucked, Keene, he thinks. What the hell is wrong with you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby Keene." The voice booms through a cloud of cigar smoke. Fucking typical. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi," he says. "Sensei Kreese." He doesn't choke, but it takes effort. He has to remind his body </span>
  <em>
    <span>you have air. It's okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"Where's your boyfriend?" Kreese asks. His coat flares behind him like a cape. The halogen light makes his skin look like paper, like someone pulled him fresh out of the grave and told him </span>
  <em>
    <span>keep moving.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Nah. He'd pull himself out, no question. "I don't mean Diaz." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yeah. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That's</span>
  </em>
  <span> why Robby's here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans. "Kind of a bitch move," he says. "Taking my ex boyfriend's money to piss me off. Wouldn't have thought a man like you would do it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese laughs. Fuck, he's unnerving. Robby doesn't have even a fraction of his dad's history with this man but it sets his hackles up, makes him nervous, makes him want to freeze or to run. He had his fight reflex overrun a long time ago, with men like this. He's trying to get it back. He's </span>
  <em>
    <span>trying</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "Come on in, kid. I don't want to have this conversation out here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby forces his breath even. It's not that hard, even: he's gonna be just fine. Just like he was with Luke. "I'm fine where I am."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're shivering," Kreese says. There is a soft burr in his voice that could be kindness. "I promise not to hurt your little feelings tonight. It's almost your birthday, after all." </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> catches Robby off-guard. He doesn't let himself sway but he digs his heels down through the bottom of his sneakers and he knows from the flicker in Kreese's wrinkled old eyes that he didn't get away unnoticed. "Thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I didn't say felicitations," Kreese drawls, but he pulls the dojo door open and holds it there, so Robby will have to pass by him to enter. Nothing can ever be straightforward. Robby knew that coming in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cigar smoke stings his eyes. He blinks rapidly, trying to cover it with a bow. He has to kneel to unlace his shoes. His fingers shake, just a little. Get it together, Robby. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese sweeps past him. His big boots are dirty at the sole. "Drink?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm okay." But he follows Kreese to the back room and takes the plastic cup when it's handed to him. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You're a man now, baby, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Luke's voice purrs in his ear; he thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck off</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he knocks it back anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"So," Kreese says. "He finally told you." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes the chair opposite the desk. Keeps his face straight, smooth and emotionless even as the whiskey kicks down into his belly. "Did he blow you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese sputters. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, that's satisfying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby cocks his head, pushes the advantage. "Okay," he says. "I guess not, then. My bad. Maybe he only does that with the actually rich old men." Sure, Robby does not win when it's him against Kreese. He doesn't know enough. There's a whole history that he can't even begin to touch. But Kreese let Luke in, and god, if there's anything Robby understands it is the various humiliations of Lucas Malone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese recovers. He has insane resilience for a man his age, even though he looks like shit. "You got me there," he says. "Jesus."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby smirks. He knows how to do that. "I'm just here to ask for it back." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You know that's not happening," Kreese says, smooth and easy, leaning back into his chair. The desk in between them feels like a wall, a barbed-wire fence; the kind of thing that holds you away from the lions at the zoo. Snakes are not like lions, though. They can get places you don't expect. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I figured," Robby says. "But I had to give you the option."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kreese leans forward, face intent, and then he laughs. "Oh, kid," he says. "You take after your dad. You never could stay down when you needed to." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's why you tried to kill him, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Please," Kreese says. "Like you've never wanted to strangle your dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Well, yeah. But I've never done it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Kreese says. "Maybe you should think about it, one of these days." He makes a big show of looking at the clock. "You still have three hours to be tried as a minor."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, kiddo. You got in late last night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby blinks at the sound of the voice, pushes himself up and out of sleep. The sun is bright and someone is leaning over him in his bed. "Dad?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad is grinning, one hand on the edge of Robby's bed, hair sticking up straight over his head. He has a warm smile. Robby used to think it was just for Miguel. "Happy birthday. I know you don't want a fuss, but I'm really glad you're here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby yawns. The light filters greenly through the bonsai leaves. Makes his dad look soft. "Love you too."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad makes a choked little sound. His whole face moves in like, a twitch kind of thing? It looks like he's experiencing pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh my god," Robby says, sitting up. "Don't make a thing out of this."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not!" Robby's dad says. "I just love you! Can't I say that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby says, rolling his eyes. "Not with that face." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is my normal face," Robby's dad says. He is tearing up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Go </span>
  <em>
    <span>away</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Robby says, sticking his hand in his dad's face. "I'm never saying anything nice to you ever again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad sticks his tongue out and </span>
  <em>
    <span>licks Robby's palm. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>"What the fuck!" Robby yelps. He falls sideways out of bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>cackles</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "I made breakfast," he says, so transparently pleased with himself he looks like a cartoon character. "Get your ass out or you'll be late for school."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby just wants like, one cigarette before school. Just to prepare himself, you know? Sometimes when he wants one he'll grab Tory but they really aren't attached at the hip. She doesn't smoke as much as he does, mostly keeps cigarettes for the breaks at work. It's a shitty habit he picked up from Luke but it really does calm his nerves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He's lingering out front to light up when he sees Hawk, and shit - he's right there. Might as well give it a shot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," he says, not yelling but projecting his voice. "Psycho number two."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck you, man," Hawk says, but he comes over anyway, stretching out his grabby little hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls his eyes but hands over the packet of smokes. "You need a light, too?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby tosses him his lighter. "You're welcome." He takes the opportunity to look at Hawk, really look. They haven't talked since before the Cobra Kai split, before Hawk broke that asshole's leg. If Robby was a prick he'd say thanks for taking care of my girl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk looks pretty much the same. Stupid hair, stupid workout leggings. His t-shirt has a skeleton on it. It's fucking February. He's clumsy with the lighter, thumb skipping over the spark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes a long drag, breathing out over his shoulder. "You good?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It is nice to remember that compared to </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> Robby is cool. Even if that someone is just a sixteen year old who goes by the mononym Hawk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm fine," Hawk snaps. He hands back the packet and dips his head back over the lighter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Relax," Robby says. "I don't bite." And then, because he can't resist, "not unless you ask nicely."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk flushes a dull red. "In your dreams." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tory'll kick his ass if he gets her baby bird too riled. That's the only thing that stops Robby from pushing. He's pretty sure he could get the kid to go like four different colours. It's okay. He knows he could have done it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby takes a seat on the step. Extends his arm to Hawk, a long sweep. "Sit down."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk bridles but he does it. He never learned to control his body language and it's all over the place - spiky, antagonistic, but also he's leaning towards Robby, like he's lonely, like he just wants </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> to pay attention to him. Robby knows about that. "What do you want?" Finally, finally, the cigarette catches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby stretches his legs out, making himself comfortable. "Well," he says, pocketing the lighter as Hawk returns it. "I want you to stop making my boyfriend and girlfriend sad when they hear your name."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Maybe they should stop talking about me behind my back, then." Hawk splutters around his cigarette; Robby considerately averts his gaze. "It's not me who stopped talking to Miguel." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's you who got in bed with a psycho, though," Robby says. "Yeah, I mean metaphorically."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He's not a psycho," Hawk says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby raises both eyebrows. "Kind of a pot kettle situation there, don't you think?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk scowls. "I'm leaving." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Wait," Robby says. He's fucking eighteen now, he has the </span>
  <em>
    <span>wisdom of age</span>
  </em>
  <span>. "It's fine. People call me that too." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk narrows his eyes. "You break any bones lately?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Point." He offers Hawk a little smile. "I would have if I'd been there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's bullshit," Hawk says. "Absolutely fucking bullshit that Miguel is mad at me. And you can tell him I said that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby smokes silently. He thinks it's unnerving, from the little hitch in Hawk's breath when he looks at Robby, the jerk of his face away when he thinks he's been caught. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't get it," Hawk says. "Like, there's already two of them. What do you bring to the thing? Absolutely nothing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs and fishes out another smoke. It's gonna be one of those conversations, he can feel it in his temples. "Fair enough."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk narrows his eyes. "LaRusso does this too," he says. "But you're better at it. Pretending to be chill about everything."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's not pretending," Robby says, easily. "It's Miyagi-do. You just stay balanced. I promise, you spitting at me a little is not enough to get me to lose my temper."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's not what you said in the parking lot," Hawk observes, smugly. "I didn't hear anything you said, because your face was in the dirt."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby waves his hand through the air. "Yeah, and then who completely lost his shit? Not me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk scowls. His face is really pointy like that, the puppy fat giving way to something more aquiline, like the name he chose for himself. "Your car's fine now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're lucky my boss likes me," Robby says, even. "But we're not here to talk about you and me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good. There isn't a you and me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby almost grins at that, but he doesn't. Hawk is so fucking easy; if Robby wanted it would take just a few words and the kid would be eating out of his palm. He doesn't do that anymore. And he doesn't want to do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shit, though. He must have been like a box with a bow on it for John Kreese. That's cold water on Robby's smugness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't listen when they talk to you," Robby says. "About your new Sensei."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"He saved me," Hawk says. "Nobody else was there to do that. Your dad definitely wasn't. You should know about that, right? That's why you don't train with him. You had to go all the way to LaRusso to learn, even though your dad is right there."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You used to like my dad," Robby says, sliding past the hurt like he's on his skateboard. "He's the one who taught you. You weren't anything before he picked you up off the dirt." It's easy to say things like that, cruel things. You just smile, pleasantly, and let that carry you forward. Robby learned from the best. He knows how that shit stings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fuck </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>," Hawk hisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Again," Robby says, serenely. "I'm gonna think you're interested." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's a mean thing to say, and it's meaner because of the tiniest hitch in Hawk's expression; Robby is pushing on something he has no right to touch. But if he doesn't someone else will, and that's not something Mr LaRusso would approve of but isn't it what he did to make Robby stay? Check and mate. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk doesn't fight him on it, though, just stares into his cigarette, a little furrow settling between his brows. "I get why Miguel likes you," he says, slowly. Not looking at Robby, just feeling the words out. "He likes everyone. He wants to give everyone a chance, sees the best that there is to see. But Tory's smart. She doesn't get scammed, like that."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that what you think I'm doing?" Robby shrugs. "From where I'm sitting, I'd be better off with the Larussos, if that was the game I wanted to play." A couple of months ago, it would have rattled him. Maybe even last week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Hawk says. He chews his lip and then lifts his head, eyes bright. "Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> trust your dad? Don't say yes right away. Think about it. With your back to the wall, with someone coming after you - is he the one you call? I thought he was. But then-" he waves the hand with the cigarette through the air. "Then he wasn't."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby keeps his face neutral. He has to try, but he manages. "I-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hawk cuts him off. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Think</span>
  </em>
  <span> about it," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Robby does. He has to light another cigarette to think about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Hawk says, getting to his feet. "That's what I thought. Thanks for the smoke." He crushes it under the sole of his shoe and then he's gone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's my fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>birthday,</span>
  </em>
  <span>" Robby mutters to himself. Honestly, what did he expect?  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Demetri hovers all through Spanish but would you look at that, Robby actually did some work for once. He's kind of smug about it, even if he did get Luke's help on the plane. It's not that often he gets one over on Demetri. It's not that Demetri thinks Robby is stupid so much as he thinks Robby doesn't care as much as he does - and it's true, Robby absolutely doesn't - but he does beam when he sees that Robby's portion of the group project is ready to go. Robby grins back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other nice thing about Demetri is that Sam has filled him in on all the relevant information and he's too neurotic to bring up anything that might get him snapped at, so even though Robby has to do some bullshitting with the teachers Demetri doesn't touch it with a ten foot pole. Robby thinks probably even Luke would have no idea what to do with Demetri and that's a nice thing to carry in his chest; it's Robby's birthday, and he has his own life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam's not as easy. She's got eyes like Robby's dad, that same laser-piercing blue, and they're back to themselves now but she's still </span>
  <em>
    <span>worried</span>
  </em>
  <span>, there's still a whole week they haven't talked about. And Sam likes birthdays. She's one of those girls who does, like, the balloons with the numbers on them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he ducks that, carefully, like he's going to have to duck her when they train today. He can't get out of that, either. Not that he really wants to. It's been so long, his body </span>
  <em>
    <span>needs</span>
  </em>
  <span> karate, his mind needs it. He needs to put his roots back down in Miyagi-do, where he's supposed to be. Even if nowhere is </span>
  <em>
    <span>simple</span>
  </em>
  <span> some places are home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel catches his wrist in the lunchroom, drags his thumb along the inside of Robby's wrist and the touch of it flares his nerves into overdrive, kicks his knees out from under him. Christ, Robby Keene, where's your game? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He leans into Miguel's shoulder and says, "Hi, again." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miguel kisses his hair. "Can we come over tonight? I figured you wouldn't want like, a big thing, but -"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It'll be nice. Robby can see it now: Tory and Miguel, in Robby's dad's living room like they are every few nights. Maybe they'll get takeout. Robby will be allowed to pick the movie - from a stack of five 80s action movies, but it's the gesture that matters. Tory will drive home, yawning. Miguel will press his fingertips to the bow of Robby's mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tomorrow," Robby says. "It's a Monday, baby. I appreciate you so fucking much, but I think I gotta-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You and your dad," Miguel says, gently. "Okay." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby leans his face into Miguel's soft neck. "Thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Can I say it, then?" Miguel asks, rubbing his fingers against Robby's pulse point, right there, where everyone can see them. "Happy Birthday, Robby Keene." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs, soft, a precious thing just for the two of them. "Yeah. It is."</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyagi-do looks the same. It's funny; Robby had thought it might be different. He wasn't gone all that long, but it's not the same place it was when Robby had that busted arm and sanded every plank on the fence. Then it was a refuge, a place that reality couldn't touch. Now Mr LaRusso lives here, so that bubble is fucking burst. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don't normally train on Mondays but Robby asked Sam if she would come with him, and Sam said </span>
  <em>
    <span>of course</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and that meant Demetri had to skip Model UN, obviously, and now they are all here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam and Demetri are hovering a little bit. Robby thinks maybe Sam feels bad that she missed him falling apart, which is the kind of sensation that makes his chest feel stupid, like, really tight with a band around it. Like how he imagines his dad feels when Miguel brings food over while Robby's dad is hungover. Demetri is simply sweaty, even though they haven't started training yet, but Robby is fond of it now. It's reassuring. If Demetri is here you will not be blindsided by anything, because he </span>
  <em>
    <span>will </span>
  </em>
  <span>be telling you worst case scenarios start to finish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like, right now: </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"What if he eats you?" Demetri asks. "Like do you think he eats people? Probably not, right? But you never know what people do in wartime. That's why they all have PTSD."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Demetri," Sam says, with infinite patience. Sam usually does not have infinite patience for anything, so maybe this should have been everyone's first clue about Sam-and-Demetri, but it wasn't, and everyone will just have to get over it. "It's a plan. Nobody else has a plan." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's a stupid plan," Demetri says. "And you're talking to someone who once tried to hit on </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yasmin.</span>
  </em>
  <span> I know you don't know her, Robby, but it was a really bad idea." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam rolls her eyes, but fondly. "I don't think it's that bad of an idea," she says. "It's kind of like what happened with you, right? You were at Cobra Kai, and it was awful, and then you got your ass kicked, and you came here." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn't kick my ass," Demetri says. "If you had kicked my ass - and by that I mean </span>
  <em>
    <span>broken my nose</span>
  </em>
  <span>, which still feels weird when I breathe, by the way - I would not have come here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't need Hawk to come here," Robby says, easily. "I just need him to leave there. It was barely making sense without Hawk, before, when Kreese had all my ex-boyfriend's money. It was only once Hawk joined that things really kicked off." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Demetri's mouth does that thing it does when people talk about Hawk. That thin line.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam tilts her head and reaches behind her, so she can loop her pinky through Demetri's. It's enough that he subsides. "I think," she says, "that it's fucked that our dads haven't done anything about it. I know you hate when I say shit like that, but I'm used to my dad, you know -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not fucking my dad?" Robby asks. "Sorry, cheap shot." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I mean, goes both ways," Sam says. And then smirks at herself. "Like our dads, apparently."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm glad someone can laugh about it," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam sighs. "Yeah. Well, it was that, or get really into like, cliff diving or something. This has a lower mortality rate." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Anyway," Demetri says. "It’s Eli. I'm choosing to believe there's a person in there that I used to know. And that person - if he knew, like really knew, what Kreese was capable of - he couldn't stay." His fingers wrap around Sam's. "He couldn't, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know, babe," Sam says. She sounds like Amanda, just for a second. Usually she's all Mr LaRusso. "But I think Robby's about to risk it all to find out."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not quite </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it," Robby says. "I mean, I'm good at this. It's not like I'm asking Demetri to fight all of Cobra Kai Two. That would be crazy." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Cobra Kai Two? Is that what we're going with? Because I have some suggestions-" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If you fucking say Star Trek," Sam says. "Demetri, I am working with you here, but I need you to realize who your audience is."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Demetri says. "But I do think goatees would be funny. Just a thing to think about. Putting it out there." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was gonna say, I can't believe you're more offended that Sam insulted Star Trek than that I said you would get eaten by snakes, but then I was like, yeah, that tracks." Robby grins, to take the sting out of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Demetri shrugs. "Self-awareness is the first step, Keene. You know what Mr L's always saying." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That's when Mr LaRusso emerges from the dojo, shading his eyes with his hand. "Hey, guys. Just the three of you?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam nods. "Robby's catching up," she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mr LaRusso's eyes skitter away, but he takes a deep breath and smiles. He's good: the smile looks real. Robby feels warm even though he shouldn't. "Excellent," he says. "Let's get started."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sam looks at Robby very carefully. "We need to focus on sparring today," she says. "That's cool, right?" It's not a question, more of a demand. Sam is Robby's </span>
  <em>
    <span>best friend</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He really has never had a friend like this. Nobody just went to bat for him like this, like she doesn't need to think about it, she just </span>
  <em>
    <span>moves</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He could never be like that, not as gun-shy as he is, but god. He loves that she is.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Robby rolls his shoulders through the soreness. They were careful, none of it with force, but it's still a lot of stress for his body considering he took a week basically off. He leaves his backpack beside the front door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad's sitting at the kitchen table, frowning at lesson plans. It's unreal that he has </span>
  <em>
    <span>lesson plans, </span>
  </em>
  <span>that there's a whole fucking accordion file that lives next to the TV and is always overflowing. When Robby was a kid he definitely thought his dad did not know how to read. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, Robby," he says, getting to his feet. "You in for the night?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says. His hair is mostly dry but he's definitely sweaty, still. He lets himself smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Plans?" Robby's dad asks. Tentative, cautious. Robby picks through all that and sees </span>
  <em>
    <span>longing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Love. What a funny thing to only just now begin to touch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly he knows what he wants. "Can we go see her?" Robby asks. "Not just me. You and me." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Robby-" Robby's dad starts. "You really want us to scream at each other on your birthday?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby says. "What kind of birthday would it be if you didn't?" He keeps his face perfectly deadpan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You don't wanna have the kids over?" Robby's dad asks. He looks kind of desperate. "I thought-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm not a birthday person," Robby says. "I'm not </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a birthday person, but I'm not weird about them. It doesn't matter. So if you yell at each other it won't fuck me up forever. Any worse, I mean."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad twists his mouth. He used to flinch more and he still does, a little, but it's like they both understand that there is this ache at the heart of their relationship, this empty space where Robby's dad was supposed to love him and instead he went away. There is no fixing it, only the understanding that it is there. That you need stronger scaffolding to build something else, something better, above it, on that shaky foundation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Robby can make jokes and maybe one day his dad will make jokes, too, and it won't feel like Robby's skin is being flayed off, or that Miguel should come and step into his shoes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad is looking at him, still. "Okay," he says. "You gotta shower, though. I'll call and let them know we're coming over." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby grins. "We can have burgers on the way back, if you want."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna need them," Robby's dad says. "Go on." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's phone is ringing when he gets out of the shower. He towels through his hair and picks it up, looking down at the familiar name on the screen. The bathroom is full of steam and he feels good, easy, warm. Feels like everything's going to be okay, or like there's something he can </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>to make it okay, which is completely different in actuality but feels kind of the same in terms of making him not feel stretched-thin and out of control.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swipes across the screen. "Hey." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, kid." Luke's voice is warm. "Having a good day?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby makes a face at his reflection in the mirror. He doesn't look older, he just looks like his hair is wet. "I think so. Thanks." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I was gonna send something," Luke says, wryly. "But then I figured better not." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good impulse," Robby says. He thinks he sounds fond, not irritated, and he finds that he doesn't mind that much, actually. "You probably shouldn't call me, either."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Birthdays and public holidays?" Luke asks. Lightly, but like it means something to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Fine," Robby says. He frowns at his reflection. "Don't be weird about it, though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I could have sent you a dick cake," Luke says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby laughs. "You could have," he says. "But then I wouldn't take your call."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Got it," Luke says. "No dick cake." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wants to say, </span>
  <em>
    <span>are you okay. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wants to curl up in a corner and listen to Luke's easy warm voice. But he doesn't </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> that. He just got used to wanting it. "I believe in you," he says, instead. "When you wanted to take care of me you were good at it. Just gotta do that to yourself." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Well," Luke says, gently. "Same to you, baby." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby runs his fingers over his jaw. "Fair enough." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Take care of yourself," Luke says. "I'll call again for Easter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby says. "Have a good night."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He goes out into the living room, and from there into the car. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It's not a long drive but it's a little strange to be in the passenger seat, looking out from the Challenger's dash on the wrong side of the car. It feels like he's in Miguel's seat, which is kind of funny to think about. Robby's dad blasts 80's rock the whole way there and drums his hands, so Robby can tell he's fucking nervous, but hey: nobody said parenting was easy, and Robby's dad has absolutely been playing it on easy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sign in at the front desk. Robby has a visitor's badge with his name on it on file but they have to give his dad a little sticky paper one, which he presses to the front of his AC/DC t-shirt with surprisingly delicate fingertips. He shoves his hands in his pockets and looks completely out of place here, in this soft sprawling building filled with flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Weird, right?" Robby asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You come here every fucking week," Robby's dad says. "Jesus." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "Mom was in labour for seventeen hours," he says. "That's a lot of fucking hours." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad sighs and ruffles his hair. "You're a good kid," he says. "Do I say that enough?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Too much, actually," Robby says, smirking. "Miguel's gonna get jealous."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad tips back his head and laughs, a long brassy sound. "Christ." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom is waiting for them in the family room. It's pretty empty; this is technically outside visiting hours but Robby's dad got weepy about it being Robby's birthday. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, mama," Robby says. "You look good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks comfortable, in a big sweater with her hair in a ponytail. He didn't realize just how worn out she looked the last time he was here and the guilt pangs at him sharply: he hates knowing that he made her sad, scared, upset. Has always hated it. "You get more handsome every time I see you," she says, so warm and sweet. Holds out her arms so Robby can step right into them. "Thanks for bringing him, Johnny," she says, over Robby's head. "And for coming in."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby's dad says, gruffly. Robby doesn't have to take his head out of his mom's shoulder to know exactly what slightly-constipated expression he's wearing: grumpy, irritated, and also extremely fond and a little apprehensive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom leads them to a table by the kitchenette, hand curled around Robby's wrist. Her fingers are a little too tight but it's okay, he doesn't mind. It's okay to know that she wants to hold on to him, the same way that he wants to be held. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad trails after. He looks so uncomfortable, too big for this place with its softly floral overstuffed furniture, the smell of patchouli in the air. Good. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby sits down at the table and his dad hovers, but sits next to him. Robby's mom watches them and says, "Tea?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sure," Robby says. He looks at his dad pointedly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh," Robby's dad says. "Juice? Do you have that?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think there's some kale in here," Robby's mom says, very clearly </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> not smirking. "Chamomile okay, Robby?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, thanks." He settles into the chair and watches her move. She looks comfortable, he thinks. Better than before. He has to think that, but he thinks it is also true. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiles at him, her big mom smile, the one that's just for him. Shannon Keene is a charming person - ask anyone - but Robby's always been </span>
  <em>
    <span>hers. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She's filling the kettle, the sound of the tap enormous in the big empty room. "I'm really glad you came."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Me too." He thinks he means it. He's not a big birthday person but when he was really little, when it was just the two of them, they'd hang out and watch </span>
  <em>
    <span>Dirty Dancing</span>
  </em>
  <span> and she'd tell him about how when he was born he screamed so loud she thought everyone for miles must have stopped to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know you didn't want to do anything," Robby's mom says. "But just in case, I got Melissa to run out and get you a little cake."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby does, actually, fucking love sheet cake. It's a good easy sugar rush, it tastes like preservatives and happiness, and you can get one from the convenience store freezer in a pinch. His smile is genuine, as is his, "Thanks, Mom." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She beams. Comes around from the kitchen and presses a kiss to the top of his head, then presses something into his palm. "I also wanted to give you this." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks down at his hands, which are holding - a rock. It's a rock. "Thanks, Mom." It's a green rock. It's pretty shiny, catches the light when you turn it this way and that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It's a crystal," Robby's mom says. "I thought you could put it with your plants."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Bone-zai," Robby's dad corrects. "That's what they're called."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby steps on his foot very hard. "Bonsai," he corrects. "And I have other plants, too. Not just them." He has his eye on a monstera. Tory thinks they're crazy expensive and he agrees with her, but he likes how big the leaves are, especially compared to the bonsai. "Thank you for the crystal, Mom." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We did this exercise with them," she says, hand curling around his shoulder. "Where we put all our energy into the thing that made us want to get clean. So I thought of you, and how much I love you, and I put it all in that rock. For a month and a half! But I just wanted you to have it, so you would remember that I do love you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh," Robby says. His face hurts. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mom.</span>
  </em>
  <span>"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," she says, wiping at the corners of his eyes with her thumbs. "Okay. Tea. And juice for Johnny."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, thanks," Robby's dad says. There's no bite to it, though. He looks different. Softer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The mug she hands Robby is chipped at the rim, with the facility crest on the outside. "You look better," she says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nods. "I told Luke to go back to Stanford," he says. "And then he did."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wraps her arms around his shoulders, presses her mouth to his hair. It's so fucking nice, he should tense up or pull away, he shouldn't get used to it, but god, it's nice. "I'm so proud of you," she says. "I know how hard that was."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And, well. Robby did learn how to fuck emotionally abusive assholes from his mama, so. She does know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"This is weird," Robby says. "I think the last time we did something for my birthday I was twelve."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He feels her tense, just a little, and then consciously relax. "The arcade, right? You ate so much cotton candy. You were so convincing when you said you were fine, and then I woke up and you were puking."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby wrinkles his nose. "</span>
  <em>
    <span>Mom</span>
  </em>
  <span>." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was my fault!" she protests, still holding on tight to his shoulders, chin on his hair. "You were so excited, and I was so tired, and I figured if you were hopped up on sugar you wouldn't realize that I was such a mess. But you did have fun. Before the puking." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah," Robby agrees. "You won me a stuffed elephant."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And then I ruined it trying to get the stains out," Robby's mom says. She laughs. "I can't believe you're so big now. It feels like last week I was bringing you home from the hospital." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is this what we're doing? Greatest hits of Robby's life?" Robby groans. "Mom, come on." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad has been quiet this whole time. Just sitting with his hands on the table looking at his glass of juice and at Robby and his mom. "I'm enjoying it," he says. "I'm glad I'm here."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Are you gonna cry?" Robby asks. "Don't cry, oh my god. We're like friends now, it's fine, you're my dad." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I know," Robby's dad says. "I just missed a lot."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Robby says, resting his head against his mom's arm. "Don't forget that awesome time you lost me in the mall. Like, the part where I got lost sucked, but before that you taught me how to get extras out of the vending machine, and that's a fuckin' life skill, dad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Should have known the vending machines were you," Robby's mom says, smiling. "That's what he did on our first date."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Technically," Robby's dad says, "it was our second date." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, because you slept over," Robby's mom says. She sits down on Robby's other side. "I was living in this awful complex, and the fridge was always broken. We didn't have anything to eat, so your dad went out and came back with like, fifty of those little bags of Doritos."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Real classy," Robby says, but it's kind of funny to think about, both his parents young and drunk, falling all over trying to impress each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's parents get along, is the thing. It's one of those stupid child of separated parents things, where you just fantasise about having an intact nuclear family, or whatever. But the thing is, without Robby they'd probably be happy - throwing things at each other, fucking, throwing more things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He said that to Luke one time, when they were just beginning, and Luke said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that's fucked up, kid, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and poured him a stiff drink. He was right, though. It's not something you should know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby’s dad is gay now, though. So maybe they wouldn’t be happy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe Robby's mom gets that Robby's feeling weird about that, because she changes the subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"When you were seven you wanted a puppy," she says. "You wanted to name it Dog. You went to the pound every day after school."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Aw, come on, " Robby says, ducking his head. "Mom, please."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It was sweet," she says. "I tried, you know, but you need a yard."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Is that why I got the fish?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The fish was cute," Robby's mom says. She winces. "I am sorry about the fish."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad looks back and forth between them. "Do I want to know?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don't want to know," Robby says. "I want to un-know."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad raises both eyebrows, sipping his kale juice. He doesn't even spit it out, which is a lot of effort coming from Robby's dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We forgot to feed it," Robby says, sheepish. "It was dead for like three weeks."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Just floating there," his mom says, covering her mouth with her hand. "God."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It smelled so bad," Robby says, thinking back on it. "So fucking bad."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I had a fish," Robby's dad says. "Two of em. Then the cat got them."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You had a cat?" Robby asks. His dad never talks about when he was a kid, not really. Just the karate stuff and the babes, all the bluster that doesn't matter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"The cat was my mom's. The only thing me and Sid agreed on was that it was evil. She loved it, though." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good taste from the cat," Robby's mom says. She smiles; no sting in it. "So, hey. How are your -" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Miguel and Tory," Robby's dad says. "Those are their names."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Okay," Robby's mom says, with a nod. "Good names."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"They're good," Robby says. "Glad I'm back."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Good," Robby's mom says. "And you?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad holds up his palms. "I'm just the driver," he says. But he sighs. "Robby's probably told you, but I'm seeing men now. Dating them, I mean, not like, seeing them and then punching them. I'm also doing that." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom's mouth curls up at the edges. "Yeah? How's that going?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You did tell her."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby shrugs. "I was pissed off at the time," he says. "I am sorry, though. I should have talked to you first."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You gotta start thinking with your head, kid," Robby's dad says, but he doesn't sound angry, just resigned. "I know it doesn't run in the family."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby grins. "Bad taste in men does, though, right, Mom?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Miguel's a good kid," Robby's dad says, swiftly. "You'll like him, Shan. Tory - she's got a mean right hook, I'll tell you that for free."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is weird," Robby says. "Can we go back to your disaster love life?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"No," Robby's dad said. "You wanted us to get along, this is how it happens."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby groans but he feels himself smiling anyway. "Fine," he says. "But you love Miguel, he's your favourite."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad leans over to ruffle his hair. "I have two great kids, how about that? And one feral raccoon."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I like raccoons," Robby's dad says. "They have weird little hands."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Tory doesn't have weird little hands," Robby says. "She's really cool. If someone hurt me I think she would literally gut them." </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's dad says, "Probably, yeah." He grins. "She's a little like you, Shan. Tough, I mean. Little crazy. Good heart, though."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I'm gonna tell her you said that," Robby says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She knows she's my favourite demon," Robby's dad says, amicably. His eyes flick to Robby's mom. "You really will like them, Shan. They're good kids."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"If Robby likes them I'll like them," Robby's mom says. "I'm glad you're handling all of this, you know. I really didn't know what to expect."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby looks at his rock. He feels like he should maybe not be here for this part? But it's not like he's going to leave them alone. "I'm the one handling it," he says. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom laughs, startled. "You're right," she says. "I'm always impressed by you. Your dad not drowning himself in spilled beer is big news."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, well." It's still prickly between them. All three of them, really. But it doesn't feel like dragging your body over broken glass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey," Robby's dad says, gently. "I'm gonna run out and get burgers. Shan, you eat meat, right?" </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby's mom says, "I'm actually trying to stay organic right now-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yeah, double cheese, double bacon, I remember."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She opens her mouth and closes it, then shakes her head, laughing a little. "All right, Johnny."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Gimme twenty," he says. "You good, kid?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby nods. "Cheese fries.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You think I don't know that?" He ducks down to press a firm, dry kiss to the top of Robby's head. "Cheese fries and Mexican Coke. Be good."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robby is eighteen but he can't remember the last time he felt like a kid. Like really, truly, everything is gonna be okay. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>His voice rasps in his own ears. "I'm not a snake."</p><p>"No," Robby's dad agrees, almost tender. It scrapes against his skin. "You're not."</p><p>"I just want to be a tree," Robby says. "That's all I ever wanted. Roots."</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>content: references to physical child abuse (robby); an unwanted kiss; some discussion of alcohol dependence; john kreese</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car is quiet on the way home. "You should train with him," Robby says, finally. His mouth tastes like sheet cake. His mom’s crystal is cool in his hands. "Mr LaRusso. There's enough space. It's a good thing to do."</p><p>"Hey." Robby's dad puts his hand on Robby's shoulder, eyes briefly off the road. "We've been over this. It fucks with your head when I'm too close with him. I wish it didn't, of course I do. But you're my kid."</p><p>"I'm eighteen, now," Robby says. "He was right and you were right. I shouldn't have freaked out. I should be able to trust you."</p><p>"Okay," Robby's dad says. "But I'm always telling my kids, you have to earn it. Everything. And I am trying to earn that from you, but I haven't yet."</p><p>"Dad -" </p><p>"It's okay, Robby. It's not bad." He rolls his shoulders back. "Like with your mom. She loves you and you love her. But you don't trust her, either."</p><p>"More than I trust you," Robby snaps, automatically. He does feel bad, like when you shoot a rubber band and it rebounds on you. "Sorry."</p><p>Robby's dad doesn't flinch. He adjusts his hands on the steering wheel, looking out at the road, not at Robby. "Do you want me to stop drinking?" </p><p>"What?" Robby leans forward. </p><p>"I'm serious."</p><p>"Where'd that come from?" He's playing for time, maybe. He doesn't know what to say. <em> Does </em> he want his dad to stop drinking? It's never been a possibility. When Robby's mom went in it was different, because of the pills and shit. But Robby's dad - he's just like this. It's Miguel who gets worried about it, not Robby. </p><p>"I've been thinking about it," Robby's dad says. His jaw flexes in the streetlight. "Asking you."</p><p>"I drink," Robby says. "Sometimes I get drunk."</p><p>"Not what I asked." His eyes are very bright, even though they aren't looking at Robby.</p><p>Fuck. "Do <em> you </em> want to stop drinking?" </p><p>"Not really. But with your mom and everything -" Now he does turn, just the barest incline of his head. The flicker of his eyes to Robby's face and back again to the road, like if he lets himself stop and really do it, really look, he won't be able to turn away again. </p><p>"Then I don't want you to stop drinking," Robby says. "You can't do it for someone else. That's what they told Mom." He shrugs. "You're doing better now, anyway."</p><p>Robby's dad flinches. "Thanks."</p><p>"If I told you not to, you would just resent me," Robby says. "You think I never asked Mom to stop with the pills and the booze? Come on." The first time he was maybe eight. Her boyfriend at the time didn't mean to backhand Robby so hard he had a bruise for three days, but hey: that's what happens.</p><p>"I don't want to do that," Robby's dad says. "I wouldn't."</p><p>Robby looks down at his rock. It <em> is </em> pretty. There are all these different faces to it, each one changing when you turn it to catch the light. "It's okay," he says. "It really doesn't bother me.”</p><p>Robby's dad sighs. "Okay," he says. "We can talk about it later." </p><p>"Sure," Robby says. He doesn't know what else there is to say. But maybe Miguel will sit there with him. Miguel always knows what to say with shit like this. He yawns and changes the subject. "So what are we gonna do about Kreese?"</p><p>"I don't know," Robby's dad admits, so quickly he must be grateful for the conversational shift, too. "It seems - he's an asshole. But the kids seem like they're okay, you know? Who's to say that isn't -"</p><p>"You're not saying that," Robby snarls. "He's not <em> better</em>." </p><p>"You think I like it?" Robby's dad shakes his head. "What that man did to me, to my head - I'm still a mess about it forty years later. I don't want a single kid going back in there, feeling like I felt. But I can't - he hasn't done anything to them."</p><p>"He beat you to a pulp."</p><p>"I'm not a minor. And let's be honest, I probably threw the first punch." </p><p>"And you tell <em> me </em> to think with my brain." Robby flexes his fingers. "Sam and Hawk almost killed each other, that's what Tory says." </p><p>"Hate to say it," Robby's dad says, wryly, "but I'd put money on LaRusso taking that one. She's tough."</p><p>"So you just want to wait it out?" Robby asks. </p><p>"I need some proof," Robby's dad says. "I can't just go in there and start a fight."</p><p>"No," Robby says. "But I can." </p><p>"<em>Robby</em>."</p><p>"Okay, okay," Robby says. "But this sucks, and I don't like it." </p><p>"I know," Robby's dad says. "I don't like it either. But I can't just tell these kids what to do. That would make me the same as him."</p><p>"No, it fucking wouldn't." Robby wants to roll his eyes but he doesn't. </p><p>"Yeah?" </p><p>"Jesus," Robby says. "You're a fucking asshole in a lot of ways, dad. But you're an asshole because you didn't want to be like him, not because you got too close to it." </p><p>"Aw, thanks," Robby's dad says. "You say the sweetest things." But his eyes are crinkling around the edges, like they do when he smiles.</p><p>It's late by the time they get home. They say good night at the door.</p><p>Robby ducks into his bedroom, holding his rock in one hand as he navigates to the light switch.</p><p>"Jesus," he says, blinking, as the light goes on. He puts his rock down on the edge of the desk and pulls the door firmly shut behind him.</p><p>"Hey," Miguel says, from Robby's bed, where he is sitting, wearing jeans and a t-shirt, hands palm-open on his lap. "Tory and I talked about it. She said you can have second base."</p><p>"You're kidding," Robby says, but he says it fucking quietly, and he's pulling his shirt over his head while he says it. "What even is second base?"</p><p>"You asking that is not it," Miguel says. He reaches out for Robby, pulls him in by the hips. "Is this okay?" </p><p>Robby lets himself stop to think about it. It's hard, because Miguel is right fucking there, and Robby knows he is fucking good at this, knows he knows how to make Miguel feel so, so good - </p><p>No. Think about you. What does<em> Robby </em> want? </p><p>It feels like a trap. Like it's too easy, because nothing is ever easy. </p><p>Robby wants to be here, with Miguel. He <em> wants </em> to see that look on Miguel's face. He wants to know that <em> he </em> put it there, <em> him. </em> Because he <em> wants to. </em></p><p>"I love you," Miguel says, gently, kindly. "You know that. I do." </p><p>"I love you, too," Robby says. God, that's easy to say. It doesn't feel weird. There's no hiccup in his voice when he says it, no lingering regret, no worry that something might be wrong, that something else might be better. It's just easy to say, because Miguel is there, and Robby wants to make him look like he looks when Robby says that, and also, he wants to <em> say it</em>. "Tory really said that?" </p><p>"She said the first time's always ugly anyway," Miguel says. </p><p>"That sounds like Tory," Robby says. He does wish - it would be nice to be here with her, too. But different. It wouldn't feel quite like this. "I'm gonna send her a fruit basket."</p><p>"Hey!" Miguel says. "<em>We</em>'re gonna send her a fruit basket." His smile is so wide. Robby loves when he smiles. The whole of him just lights up, loose and easy. Miguel makes Robby feel like the world could be good again, just because he is in it. </p><p>Robby leans in and pulls Miguel's shirt over his head. Quick, easy. Boom. That's a life skill and Robby's got it. "Hang on, babe," he murmurs. "I've got you." </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>In the morning Miguel is curled up next to Robby, his head on Robby's shoulder and his hair tufting up so it tickles Robby's chin. Robby presses a kiss to his forehead, because he can. His arm is a little bit asleep because of Miguel's head on it, but that's okay. It's still nice. </p><p>With his other hand he reaches for his phone, pulls it off the cable and snaps a pic. </p><p><em> Thanks for the bday present</em>, he taps out, send to <em> Tory (psycho)</em>. It's a good picture. Miguel's head is turned so you can't see that he's drooling a little bit onto Robby's shoulder; he just looks peaceful, pleased. </p><p><em> Your face too, dummy, </em> Tory replies, immediately. She's a bad texter and it's rare that she gets back to him so fast. That makes him feel warm, too. </p><p><em> Jerk. </em> But he gets the selfie angle, an unflattering one up his nose while Miguel makes a soft noise and curls further into his neck. He has to card through Miguel's messy hair, then, rub the pads of his fingers along the nape of his neck, down into his traps. He runs hotter than Robby does, not by much but enough that Robby will have to sleep without a blanket in the summer.</p><p>It's nice to think about that. To think that in the summer Miguel will simply be here, and that Robby will, too.</p><p>Robby's mom will be out by then. Maybe he'll split time with her. He doesn't know if she'd want him to. He doesn't know if <em> he'd </em> want himself to. </p><p>"You're thinking too loud," Miguel says, sleepily, into his shoulder. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>"Okay," Robby says. </p><p>They do have to get up eventually, and by <em> eventually </em> Robby means in fifteen minutes, when his alarm goes off. Miguel normally doesn't sleep like this, flat and lazy, but it's <em> nice </em> when he does, and it sends a little prickle of satisfaction up Robby's spine, because <em> he </em> did that. Well, the two of them, together, did that. But he's smug about it and it makes Miguel laugh when he looks at Robby, so that's good, too. </p><p>Robby's dad takes one look at them and says, "Oh, I'm not talking to your mom about this, Diaz." </p><p>Miguel grins. "Okay," he says, leaning easily into Robby's shoulder. "You can talk to Yaya instead."</p><p>Robby's dad chokes on his coffee. "Go to school, you - god damn teenagers."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah," Robby says. "Love you, too."</p><p>Robby's dad freezes and then he smiles, a big one, wide and honest. "Don't think you're getting around me with that," he says. </p><p>"Oh, I think I am," Robby says. "Toast, Diaz?" </p><p>"Toast is good," Miguel says. </p><p>They have an easy breakfast, teasing Robby's dad to make him blush. Easy drive to school, Miguel singing along to whatever's on the stupid 80s station he tuned Robby's car radio to. Tory's waiting at the front steps, lazy smirk curling across her face. </p><p>"Hey," he says, and leans in so she can kiss him. "Thanks for the birthday present."</p><p>"I'm right here," Miguel squawks, but not in an offended way; Miguel likes them and he likes being loved, is comfortable in it. It doesn't make him nervous like it does Tory and Robby. He just basks in it. </p><p>"Well, it wasn't your birthday," Tory says, grinning, but she kisses him, too. "Everything good?"</p><p>"Good," Miguel says. Still a little loopy, and <em> boy, </em>is that a boost to Robby's ego. "Worth the wait." </p><p>Tory laughs. "Don't tell your mom that," she says.</p><p>"Okay, why the hell would you bring my mom up," Miguel says, jerking his head up like an indignant bird.</p><p>Robby laughs, wrapping his arm around Miguel's waist. "Settle down, baby." </p><p>Miguel says, easily, sweetly, "It'll be better when it's all three of us. Everything is."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>It's sunny out all day, that bright clear February sunshine. The air has a little snap to it, so when you breathe in it stings, but Robby likes it. It's distinct, not like the long lazy days in summer when the heat drags out and the humidity and smog blur all the moments together.</p><p>It's just him. Miguel and Tory are on the long drive out to the woods; Sam and Demetri are doing Model UN shit. Moon asked if Robby wanted to sit in for GSA and Robby said no thank you.</p><p>The parking lot's busy. Busier than you'd expect; Robby has to park further away than he usually does. Probably for the best, considering what he's here for: he doesn't want to take <em> another </em> tow back to LaRusso Auto. That would be fucking mortifying. </p><p>He jams one hand in his pocket and uses the other to knock on the door. "Excuse me?" </p><p>"What the fuck are you doing here?" Hawk snarls, leaping to his feet. He looks different in the gi<em>, </em> younger. Like a kid playing dress-up, like Robby used to look when he was really really little, and walked around in his dad's clothes. </p><p>The dojo is full. That's kind of startling, when you think about it - Kreese hasn't had it for that much longer than Robby's dad, and Robby's dad didn't have it packed out every session. But Robby's dad is a fucking idiot when it comes to marketing, and Kreese - has had a lot of capital, behind him, so maybe that's part of it.</p><p>It looks different, too, now that Robby can see it in the daylight. There's fresh paint on the wall, new equipment. Robby would love to do a little aerial work. He should ask Mr LaRusso about that.</p><p>The kids look different. Not like Robby's dad's rejects and losers. These are athlete, that's the angle. Robby can see it. Karate as a secondary sport, for kids whose ambition is already burning them out. </p><p>Not a refuge, like Robby's dad was building. Is still trying to build. </p><p>These kids don't need karate. That's not <em> bad</em>, though, is it? Not everyone needs to be rebuilt. </p><p>"Keene," Hawk snaps. </p><p>Robby looks over his shoulder. Kreese is leaning against the wall, thoughtful. So he's letting Hawk talk for him? Fine. Robby can talk to Hawk.</p><p>"I believe," Robby says, pulling his phone out of his pocket and scrolling through the screenshots, "I am entitled to one free lesson. Isn't that right,<em> Sensei </em> Kreese?"</p><p>"That's correct, Mr Keene." Kreese is in his element, glowing with power. Robby's never encountered him like this. It's more unsettling than he expected. "Why don't you come in?" </p><p>Robby isn't wearing a gi, just leggings and a tank top. He slips off his shoes and bows to the mat. "I'd love to."</p><p>Kreese is laughing, a low unsettling sound. It grates against Robby's ears. "Well, class. Shall we begin?" </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Driving sucks. Like, it hurts, a lot. </p><p>Robby is a good driver and his pain tolerance is nothing to sneeze at, but he cannot get pulled over right now because he will blow it. </p><p>Thankfully the drive is short and familiar. He's never been so grateful to see that god damn tree in his life, and he's spent a frankly alarming proportion of his life grateful to see that tree. </p><p>Mr LaRusso comes out of the dojo wearing sweats and a loose tee. His eyes widen at the sight of the car. </p><p>"Hi, Mr L," Robby says, pushing the door open. It takes him a full forty five seconds to get out of the car, and he has to cling to the door to do it. </p><p>"Oh my god," Mr LaRusso says. It's gratifying, honestly, how fast he comes to Robby, how he stalls on his heels like a cartoon character, skid marks almost visible behind him. His hands flap at his sides, like he wants to put his hands on Robby but isn't sure if he can. </p><p>"Don't worry about it," Robby says, holding up his hand. "It's fine." He sways a little on one foot, then the other, then decides he should probably just sit down. "Sorry, I just need a little help. Dad's still out in the woods." Now he's on his ass on the lawn and his butt hurts. </p><p>"Christ." But Mr LaRusso kneels beside him and presses his hand to Robby's shoulder, like he did when Hawk fucked it up, the first time. "Okay, list ‘em."</p><p>"Knee, ankle, hip, shoulder," Robby says. Doesn't wince even though he wants to because it's better to get them all out at once. "No headshots, the ankle was dirty. Might have sprained a finger, can't tell."</p><p>"Okay," Mr LaRusso says. "Ice. You need the ER?" </p><p>Robby thinks about it. It’s Mr LaRusso, so Robby genuinely thinks, not just the <em> no </em> he'd lead with if this was someone else. "No. Shoulder's sore but I popped it back in."</p><p>"All right." Mr LaRusso is clearly trying to stay calm. "Come inside. I have some Vicodin from when I had my root canal, just let me check you out first."</p><p>"Just Tylenol is fine," Robby says. Opioids don't mesh well with him. Luke learned it the hard way. </p><p>"Robby-" Mr LaRusso starts. He frowns and stoops to get Robby's arm over his shoulder. "Okay. Inside first."</p><p>For a little guy Mr LaRusso is strong. He can pull Robby almost all the way up and hold him there. Together they get Robby up the stairs and into the house. </p><p>The armchair is comfortable, big and soft. It doesn't really fit with the clean minimal energy of the dojo, but Robby's grateful anyway. He strips his shirt off, wincing when the fabric comes off sticky with blood and yanks at his skin. </p><p>Mr LaRusso mutters under his breath but he just runs his fingers through Robby's hair and goes to put the kettle on. </p><p>Robby zones out a little while Mr LaRusso is cleaning him up. He's in it enough to say what hurts and what doesn't, and help Mr LaRusso peel his leggings off and put him in a long sleeved tee and sweater from Mr LaRusso's suitcase. It smells like laundry detergent and feels good. </p><p>Finally Mr LaRusso pronounces him "as good as it's gonna get" and gets to his feet, shaking out his hands. "Tea?" </p><p>"Thank you," Robby says. He's crashing. Exhaustion hits you like that, all at once. He feels flattened, roadrunner underneath an anvil. Everything around him is two-dimensional. He could close his eyes and just- </p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says. "Drink your tea."</p><p>Robby blinks down at the cup in his hands. "Ah," he says. Raises it to his mouth and lets the burst of honey-sweetness blossom across his tongue. "Thanks." </p><p>"Of course," Mr LaRusso says. He rocks back onto his heels, and then surveys the room thoughtfully. There's really not much else to sit on - there's the table, the futon, this overstuffed armchair completely at odds with everything else. He sighs and sits down beside Robby, folding his knees underneath him. "Okay, kid. Talk." </p><p>Robby groans but it's not like he came here to <em> not </em> tell someone. "I was at Cobra Kai."</p><p>"Jesus," Mr LaRusso says, breathing in through his teeth. "Alone? Of course."</p><p>"I got the shit kicked out of me," Robby says. "It wasn't the plan but I improvised on the fly."</p><p>Mr LaRusso rubs the bridge of his nose with his hand. There's a little streak of copper on the outside of the thumb; Robby's blood. Cool. "You had a plan? Of course you had a plan. Did your dad know?" </p><p>"Nah. Even my dad would think this was stupid."</p><p>Mr LaRusso makes a strangled sound halfway between a laugh and a whimper. "Christ, Robby."</p><p>"You know they do a round robin," Robby says. <em> Fuck</em>, his neck hurts. Too much movement, too fast. It's gonna complain for a while. "You get beat up by everyone there and then Kreese decides if you took it well enough to stay." </p><p>"Robby -" </p><p>It sucks to think about, like it sucks to breathe in and feel your entire body ache. But last night Robby's dad said <em> I thought maybe it was better, I thought it was just me it hurt, </em>and Robby had to know. Had to. </p><p>"I needed to see it," he says. "I didn't realise until I was in it, but I didn't believe my dad about how bad it was." </p><p>Mr LaRusso breathes out hard. "Robby.”</p><p>"I can't believe my dad made something good out of that," Robby says. His eyes hurt. He didn't cry when he was hurt. He doesn't do that, learned it real fucking quick. But now, that he's safe and soft and the inside has been scooped out of him with a spoon-</p><p>Mr LaRusso puts his hand on Robby's leg. He's gentle but it still hurts. "I know," he says, softly. "It astounds me, too."</p><p>"I knew," Robby says, closing his eyes, because he doesn't want to see Mr LaRusso's big brown gaze, cannot handle that extra kindness now, while he is wrapped up in so much of it, too much of it. "I knew it was bad. It had to be, because of the way my dad is. But I didn't <em> know</em>."</p><p>"Yeah." </p><p>Robby shakes his head. "You knew, right? You were in it."</p><p>"It wasn't a long time," Mr LaRusso says. "For me. It was awful, but I got out. Your dad was there when he was a child, for a long, long time." </p><p>"He was scared of doing that to me," Robby says. "I knew that. I did. But I -" <em> didn't feel it. </em>Not until he was in there, in that crowd of baying children who wanted only his blood. "Fuck." </p><p>Mr LaRusso reaches up, carding his fingers through Robby's hair, just like Robby's mom does. "Hey. He's better now." </p><p>Robby nods. "I know. I just-" </p><p>"Okay," Mr LaRusso says, and he gets up again and pulls Robby against his chest, holds him there while Robby shakes and shakes against him. </p><p>"That's why you love him," Robby says, when the shivering has subsided enough that his jaw stops chattering. "That's why he loves you. Because you were brave enough to be different. And you love him because he <em> stopped</em>." </p><p>"Hey," Mr LaRusso says, kindly. Robby can't fathom what's in his expression, he just can't. He doesn't have the ability to process it; it just looks like a face to him, right now. "It's okay."</p><p>"I can't," Robby says. He swallows, forcing himself to breathe. In and out, in and out. "I can't go home like this. My dad will lose it."</p><p>"He won't lose it," Mr LaRusso says. He looks a little nervous, though. "You're his son, Robby. I thought things were looking up?" </p><p>"They are," Robby says. "But he can't go fight Kreese, you know that." Part of him, the vicious part, wants to see him do it. Thinks he's owed that. </p><p>Part of him, the wounded part, wonders why Mr LaRusso hasn't. He would do it for Sam. </p><p>Robby would do it for Sam. </p><p>Mr LaRusso chews on his lower lip. "I'll go with him," he says. "Look, Robby. Someone has to stop this. If he won't listen to just one person, maybe he'll listen to both of us." </p><p>Robby sits up. "Are you ready for a fight?" he asks. "I'm not kidding. I mean, <em> really </em>ready. Not like sparring with me or Sam, or even with my dad. Like, a real fucking fight. Because that's what that's going to be, and you and my dad both know it or you'd have stepped in earlier."</p><p>"That's not fair," Mr LaRusso says. "We've been trying." </p><p>Robby shrugs. <em> Fuck </em>it hurts to shrug. "Sure. Tell that to my fuckin' ribs."</p><p>Mr LaRusso swallows audibly. "Fair enough," he says. "But Christ, Robby. Don't fucking go in there without backup. Never again." </p><p>"I have learned my lesson," Robby lies through his teeth. "Just don't tell my dad, okay?"</p><p>Mr LaRusso squints. "Robby-"</p><p>Robby closes his eyes again, sinking back into the deep comfort of not being able to see anything, and thus, not having the responsibility to interpret anything he sees. "You know it was, like, actually really fucked up, what you asked me to do. When you asked me to lie for you."</p><p>Silence. A long, drawn out moment where the only sound is the wind in the trees outside and the faint backfire of a car in the distance. Then: "Robby-" </p><p>"You know I'd do anything for you," Robby says, eyes still closed. "You knew and you still asked me to do it. That's not very cool."</p><p>Mr LaRusso's voice cracks. "I swear I didn't mean it like that."</p><p>"Yeah, but you didn't <em> not </em>mean it like that, either," Robby says. "At least my dad gets that it's a big deal." </p><p>Mr LaRusso breathes out. "I'm calling your dad," he says. "But you're right, and I am sorry. Amanda said - well. She said I need to think more seriously about a world where other people have opinions that matter, and I thought that was a harsh thing to say, but she's not wrong." His voice is slow, halting. Picking out the words. "You are the last person I wanted to put in that crossfire. And I have not thought about you, in all this. That's not a fair thing to do with all the trust you have placed in me."</p><p>"Oh," Robby says. "Okay." </p><p>Mr LaRusso laughs, very softly. "Hey. Look at me." </p><p>Robby doesn't want to. He feels like when he was four or five, and would hide under his mom's blanket, because if he couldn't see her then she couldn't find him and make him go to school. But he's <em> not </em> five, so he opens his eyes. </p><p>Mr LaRusso is crouching in front of him, looking right at Robby. He has <em> such </em>round eyes. Sam's are like that, too. "I'm listening," he says. "I'm trying my best. I'm sorry you had to get beaten to a pulp to tell me. I'm sorry I didn't listen to what you were telling me, before. What your dad was telling me."</p><p>"It was getting beat up that did it?" Robby asks. He wants to look down at his hands, or lean back into how much everything fucking hurts - it fucking <em> hurts</em>, when will the Tylenol kick in? - but he can't, because Mr LaRusso is looking at him, and it wouldn't be fair to drop that. "I do that all the time." </p><p>That same choked little laugh. Mr LaRusso's eyes are welling, maybe, just a little. "I <em> know </em> that you can handle a lot," he says. "I've known that since I met you. I just didn't want to think that I was adding to that, not just making it better."</p><p>"I mean, you're not all bad," Robby quips. "I don't think I'd be talking to my dad without you." </p><p>"If it helps," Mr LaRusso says, "I don't think I'd be talking to your dad without you, either." </p><p>"Ew," Robby says. "That's gross." But he smiles, and Mr LaRusso does, too. </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The first round was the worst. After that Robby knew what to expect, and could brace for it. He'd thought - it was an educated guess - that it would be like his dad's Cobra Kai: brutal and punishing, sure, but ultimately fair. He'd fought Miguel and Tory enough to know that, what it felt like. And he'd beaten Hawk once and lost to him once, and that, he'd hoped, would keep him aware of the reckless edge. </p><p>It was nothing like Robby's dad's Cobra Kai. There was very little of his dad in it at all. </p><p>You could do forensics on Tory and Miguel, even Hawk. Compare them to each other and you'd find Robby's dad's fingerprints all over them. You could even do it with Robby's dad, and work forward. Miguel said he saw it in Kreese, too. </p><p>Robby did not see it in Kreese then. He did not even see it in Hawk. </p><p>They were not well trained, though they were all natural athletes. They were clumsy, beginners: they lead with their weight and muscle, not with skill or technique. Robby could have taken any one of them easily, even two or three. With Sam at his back all of them, no question. </p><p>Hawk looked at him and there was a question in it, hidden in the snarled challenge. Maybe he didn't even know the question was there, but now that Robby had seen it he couldn't ignore it.</p><p>He made the decision partway through, on the fly. Told himself he needed to see how far they'd go, that Hawk needed to see it, too. That Robby would not allow him a moment more's plausible deniability. </p><p>It was a good plan, the second version. Better than the first. </p><p>More necessary. </p><p>John godforsaken Kreese. </p><p>The first round’s opponent was not Hawk. Robby was surprised by this, but didn't let it show. There was a big guy, instead, bigger than Hawk but not paler, fists balled up in the loose sleeves of the gi.</p><p>He telegraphed the first hit but Robby let it land, to see what he was working with: turned to the left of his chest, where nobody had gotten him over the past few days of training, and where hard muscle protected him. <em> Fuck, </em> it was too hard. Robby could take it - he'd been in his share of real fights, fights for things you <em> needed, </em>fights with real stakes. This was not supposed to be a real fight with real stakes: it was supposed to be a warmup.</p><p>Even in <em> Cobra Kai </em> there ought to be standards. </p><p>But <em> ought to </em> wasn't really the operating standard here, anymore. Fuck it, Robby decided. He knew how to fight. </p><p>He caught the second kick with a smooth forearm block, followed with a series of sharp jabs to the chest. The kid reeled back, unused to that kind of pushback, Robby figured; he pressed the advantage with a kick to the throat and when the kid brought his arms up he went for the leg. </p><p>Smooth, technically clean. LaRusso rules, even, better than tournament. </p><p>The kid lay on his back and Robby looked for Kreese to call the point. When no sound came he looked to Hawk. Still nothing.</p><p>The kid was still lying there. His fingers clenched into the mats. He was going to pull himself up. </p><p>"It's not tournament rules, Keene," Hawk said, and the way he said it - was ugly, sour, like rotten fruit. "You don't stop just because you feel like it."</p><p>"What?" Robby said. "I'm serious, what -" </p><p>Kreese cleared his throat. "You're welcome to leave, at any time, Robby." Fuck, Robby hated hearing his name in that man's mouth. </p><p>The kid picked himself back up. There were no marks on him, because Robby was well-trained; he wouldn't bruise a kid <em> sparring</em>, not a kid he could sweep so easily. </p><p>"Okay," Robby said. He let the smile draw itself across his face, let his teeth come out. "Why not."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad has mud on his hoodie. He flies through the dojo door with an enormous clatter, brushes past Mr LaRusso and falls to his knees in front of Robby. "Jesus Christ," he says, voice softer than Robby had imagined it could be. "Robby, <em> please </em> let me help you."</p><p>Mr LaRusso's Tylenol has taken the edge off. That still leaves a big ass blunt knife of pain, but it does help.</p><p>"Hi, Dad," he says. "I'm really okay. Nothing broken."</p><p>"To be sure of that I'd really like you to see a doctor," Mr LaRusso interjects, but he's backed off so Robby's dad can look at Robby, giving them some space. </p><p>"No thank you," Robby says, politely.</p><p>Robby's dad laughs. "That's my kid," he says. "Fuck."</p><p>"It's not that bad," Robby says. "It just looks bad."</p><p>"It looks pretty bad," Robby's dad says, carefully running his fingers along Robby's body: legs first, then arms, finally chest. "Robby, did you forget how to block?" He turns to Mr LaRusso. "LaRusso, your karate is defense only. You teach him to block? Because it doesn't look like he did any of that."</p><p>Robby makes a soft sound of protest. His head feels foggy. Not the opioid detachment that unnerves him, but just - tiredness. Bone-worn fatigue.</p><p>"Shh," Robby's dad says. "I got you. The kids know you did this? They're gonna be fucking pissed."</p><p>"You didn't tell them?" Robby yawns. It's stupid, but he feels better, safer, now that his dad is here. </p><p>"Diaz would lose his mind, are you kidding? When you go to the hospital I'll drive him myself, but otherwise you get to tell him." The patter of his voice is intended to be light, but Robby hears it catch against the consonants. </p><p>"I'm okay," Robby says. "It just looks bad, promise." </p><p>"Fuck," Robby's dad says. He gets up and pulls Robby into a hug. "Okay."</p><p>"You can both stay, if you'd like." Mr LaRusso looks at Robby carefully when he says it. "I don't want you to move around too much, Robby. And it might be better to have both of us keeping an eye on you."</p><p>Robby's dad squares his shoulders and looks down his nose at Mr LaRusso. "Danny," he says. "If this were Sam-"</p><p>"I'd say the same thing," Mr LaRusso says. He looks down, and Robby realises <em> his </em> hands are shaking. </p><p>"He trained with Cobra Kai, too." Robby says it softly, but the house is quiet, just them and the crickets, the soft sound of all their ragged breathing. "Not as long as you."</p><p>"I know," Robby's dad says, but he sounds like he's realising something. "Fine. Okay."</p><p>Robby yawns. "Kay," he says. "Can I fall asleep now?" </p><p>"If you can fall asleep," Mr LaRusso says, "you can sleep."</p><p>"'Kay," Robby repeats. He tucks his face into his own shoulder and closes his eyes. He's good at sleeping, can do it almost anywhere. It doesn't feel so much like anywhere right here, though. It feels like there are people who are watching over him.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>He should have walked out. That would have been the right thing to do. He'd known that all along; had not needed to go across the state to learn that. It was a lesson he'd learned young, and if he would just <em> listen </em>to himself - </p><p>Well. </p><p>He won the first fight and it was a rush. It was like the worst of the best times with Luke, when he was aware in his thinking mind that there was something wrong, that his body was not acting as it should, that there was a mismatch between his heart and his hands. There was a slippery kind of backwash in his throat, an acid in his stomach. That sour aftertaste, the throb behind your tongue and your eyes that came with the morning after and the bad sex and all the other shit Robby had told himself was normal and fun and good, because if it wasn't good then Luke wasn't good, and Luke <em> had </em> to be good, otherwise there was nothing that was.</p><p>It wasn't like he left his body. Maybe it would have been easier if he had, better; he could have had the plausible deniability he'd wanted so badly to strip from Hawk's bones. But Robby for good or ill never fought like that. When he fought he was in every moment, and it took his thinking mind to bring each motion from will to muscle to impact. Miyagi-do had taught him to <em> think </em> and his father's Cobra Kai had taught him to <em> strike </em> and so he felt each movement, each viper's strike into soft flesh, almost in slow motion, in all its degrees. He was fully aware; he could have stopped at any moment. He did not stop at any moment. </p><p>Hawk was the fourth. The first three were groaning bloodily in various corners, while Kreese watched with that same horrible smile drawing across his face, the smile that Robby instinctively without explanation knew would reduce his father to a fragile construction of bone and skin.</p><p>Robby wiped his hands on his leggings and bowed to Hawk. He felt <em> good</em>. He felt like he could take anything. He felt Kreese's eyes on him, his obvious approval, the knowledge of which curled hotly through him even though he <em> knew </em> it was poison, he knew it in his bones. But he also knew, because he'd lived and died for it for three fucking years, that it would feel fucking good while it stripped him from the inside out.</p><p>He knew that Hawk would fall like the fourth domino. He knew that he would get sloppy, because he always got sloppy. That was what Kreese trained into them; that you took the hit so you could deal out your own. </p><p>Hawk bowed to him, a shallow, resentful motion; he tossed his eyes to Kreese, a furtive seeking gesture to which Kreese responded with only the tiniest quirk of his lips. </p><p>"Begin." </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>"Dad?" </p><p>It's dark in the dojo. Robby's dad is lying on the floor, Mr LaRusso a little away from him. They gave Robby the futon. It's a nice futon, as far as these things go. </p><p>Robby's dad groans. "Robby?" He sits up, hair and face pale in the moonlight that falls through the window. </p><p>"Do you think there's something wrong with us? Something bad?" </p><p>"What?" Robby's dad takes a second, rubbing his hand over his face. "I'm coming over." </p><p>"Okay." Robby sits up on the futon, hand pressed against his sore rib to cushion the effort. "Thanks." He keeps his voice soft. He doesn't know if Mr LaRusso is a light sleeper or not, but he knows his dad is surprisingly easy to wake. </p><p>Robby's dad looks almost graceful in the low light, picking his way through the living room. Mr LaRusso said all the rest of the house was full of storage but now that he's moved in he'll have to do some reorganization, just hasn't had time. It sounded like bullshit to both Robby and his dad but neither of them said anything. Robby's dad, for all that he's big, is even more trained than Robby and maybe more than Mr LaRusso, because he started younger. He's like Sam, it's all muscle memory, the kind that kicked in before he hit his full height. </p><p>The point is, he's fucking quiet, when he walks. And even quiet when he eases himself down onto the futon next to Robby, so their shoulders brush. "Hey, kid." </p><p>"Hi," Robby says. He lets his dad take some of his weight; it's kind of - a little rush, that he does it. That he's warm and solid against Robby's side. For a second Robby thinks maybe his dad is going to put his arm around Robby's shoulders - that maybe Robby would <em> let him </em> - but he doesn't. "I just -"</p><p>Robby's dad doesn't say anything. He just looks at Robby, watching him with a careful kind of intensity that maybe Robby thinks might be love.</p><p>"I almost didn't let them do it," Robby says. He looks up at the ceiling. It's the kind of low that comes with the houses that are a little older, the kind that were built when you could just have a house, not a mansion or an apartment with nothing in between. He likes it here, maybe more than in Encino. It feels like a place where people should live, not the kind of place that Luke would- </p><p>Fuck. He only thinks about Luke when he's off balance. "I could have won. There were a lot of them, but I think I would have managed it."</p><p>Robby's dad breathes out, soft. "I think you could, too." His mouth quirks, the white of his teeth a bright flash in his face. "Daniel says you have the most natural talent of anyone he's ever seen. I think he's right."</p><p>"It was that or the alcohol, right? Had to get something from you."</p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad says. "You scared yourself. Tell me how."</p><p>Robby's breath shakes. "I-" He swallows and looks down at his hands, mottled and bruised even when he can barely see them. "I liked it," he whispers. </p><p>"Ah," Robby's dad says. His fingers press against Robby's chin, turning his face towards Robby's dad. "Hey."</p><p>Robby wants to close his eyes but he can't so he studies his dad's face instead. The darkness of his stubble, the unkempt tousle of his hair, the clear sharpness of his eyes. "It felt good." </p><p>"Yeah." Robby's dad reaches up, smoothing Robby's hair out of his eyes. "You were the best."</p><p>Robby flinches, wants to protest, but his dad's grave eyes settle him. If anyone understands what it means to go too far, it's John Lawrence. "He wouldn't let them stop until they couldn't get up again."</p><p>Robby's dad doesn't look surprised. His jaw clenches, but only a little. "Yeah."</p><p>Robby thinks about his dad at twelve. When Robby was twelve he couldn't roll a blunt, just couldn't get his fingers to finish the twist. There are pictures of Robby's dad when he was twelve. He had floppy hair and was built like a twig. He looked like a kid. "I didn't do it at first. I said I wouldn't. And then -"</p><p>"And then it seemed like there wasn't anything else you could do." </p><p>"Dad?" </p><p>"Yeah." Robby's dad drops his hand to Robby's shoulder, so his thumb is pressing at the top of it. The steady weight of him feels - "It was fun, right? None of their hits landed, and all of yours did. You started to feel like you deserved it."</p><p>"I did," Robby says. "I was better. That's what winning is."</p><p>"It's your right," Robby's dad says. </p><p>Robby's stomach lurches. He wants to be sick but it would hurt too much to move. </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. "I'm here. You stopped."</p><p>"I didn't want to," Robby says, breathing out. "I really, really, didn't want to."</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Hawk was better than any of the ones before him, by orders of magnitude rather than degrees. He was faster, lighter, and knew how to push the couple of inches he had on Robby farther than he should by rights have been able to. </p><p>Robby had never snapped into it like that before, not even the first fight with Miguel, where the world shifted on its axis and was renewed. </p><p>Robby was already warm. He'd fought three boys into the mats - past what any other dojo would have allowed - and his knuckles were singing and stinging, the liquid ease of those victories pouring through him like a white pill or a line. </p><p>Hawk flew past recklessness into an inverse kind of balance. He was so overextended that he had taught his body to experience equilibrium at the point of greatest extension. It made him vulnerable but it was also strangely compelling. </p><p>It was a different fight than any of the ones before. Hawk was better but Robby was, too. He was in his own mind, not hiding from it; he hadn't slipped into the haze that was Cobra rage, but he also hadn't transcended like he did when a fight was simply an extension of kata. He was in his own skin. He felt every movement: every movement was his own will.</p><p>He hit the mats hard and Hawk followed Robby down, gravity and momentum doubling his weight; he was heavy, dangerous, relentless. Feral, but a kind of feral that had been honed by something worse, made into a weapon.</p><p>Their eyes caught. Hawk's eyes were flat and dark, as if there was no person in him, only the fight. He stared at Robby for a moment, the animal stare of a predator in the moment before it ripped the throat out of its prey, before its claws tore the skin open and let the entrails cool in the open air.</p><p>Robby bared his own teeth. Of course he would not yield. He'd been as animal as anyone but Mr LaRusso had taught him to leash it, call it to his own will. He surged upwards, taking Hawk with him; the yelp that came out of the kid stoking the sharp satisfaction in his blood.</p><p>Robby's hand was wet. He looked down at the fist, at the smear of rust against the skin. </p><p>He'd knocked Hawk to his knees, so his face tipped up at an awkward angle. His neck must have hurt but he wasn't protesting, just bleeding from the mouth. He looked pale but furious, wriggling in Robby's other fist, which had tangled itself in Hawk's hair. Which <em> Robby </em> had tangled in Hawk's hair, to hold him. </p><p>Robby darted his gaze over to Kreese. The man had not moved; completely and perfectly at ease against that fresh-painted wall. His legs crossed at the ankles; his gi was perfect, white and crisp. Kreese raised his eyebrow at Robby, the challenge as clear as if he'd spoken it aloud.</p><p>"Just do it," Hawk spat. Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth. </p><p>Robby tilted his head. Let himself look, savour the moment; tracing his eyes along the damage that he'd done. The bloody face, the gi ripped open from the force of their movement. "Yeah?"</p><p>Hawk snarled. "Fuck you." </p><p>Robby tilted Hawk's head, again. All around them the kids were staring, calmly, as though they were used to this. As though it happened all the time. It probably did happen all the time. </p><p>Hawk glared. "Stop dragging it out." </p><p>"I <em> won</em>," Robby said, showing Hawk his teeth. "You don't wanna say it?"</p><p>Hawk took a deep breath, dragging air in like it hurt. It probably did; Robby had hit his chest hard, not once or twice but many times, with feet and fists and memorably even a headbutt or two. He wondered how long they'd fought. </p><p>Robby's own body did not ache notably. He had avoided the worst of the hits; faster, smarter, more aware than Hawk. That was his strength. He thought it through. He thought everything through.</p><p>"Fuck you," Hawk said, dragging his eyes away from Robby's face, to the floor. His head hung heavily from Robby's fingers, like his whole body was a puppet's, tied with string to Robby's will, to Robby's strength. "I'm not gonna say it." </p><p>Robby laughed. He wondered if this was how Luke had felt, at first, with Robby, when Robby had pretended to fight back; when Robby was tired and skittish and Luke's fingers felt like sandpaper, like fists. "Oh, you're going to say it." The promise of it - shit, he was high on it. He wasn't out of control, but he could feel the ugliness of his own smile.</p><p>He considered. What would be best? Flashiest? Hawk was the best of them. Robby would have to make it good, in a way he hadn't bothered with the three before. He'd need to rip the kid all the way down to the studs. </p><p>Kreese's gaze weighed on him. He wanted to impress, not just - He wanted Kreese to say <em> you're the best I've ever seen </em>. He needed it, suddenly, overwhelmingly. He knew nothing less than his best - worst - would be sufficient.</p><p>He knew because he'd been this person before. </p><p><em> Fuck. </em> </p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby's dad presses a kiss to the top of Robby's head and gets up. "It's okay," he says. "I'll get you some water."</p><p>"Thanks."</p><p>Robby's dad nods at him, slipping back into the dark with that same easy, beautiful movement. The soft sound of the tap breaks the silence, and then he's moving soundlessly back to Robby, so their fingers touch when Robby curls his hand around the plastic cup. "Small sips," Robby's dad says, gently. "I'd make you some tea but you're not really a tea person, are you?" </p><p>"No," Robby says. "Thank you, this is good." </p><p>His dad hovers for a second. </p><p>"You can sit back down," Robby says. He looks over at Mr LaRusso, who remains the same still shape. Probably asleep. If he's not, well - Robby doesn't want to deal with that, so he's not going to think about it. </p><p>"Okay." The warmth of him disturbs the air; he bumps his shoulder against Robby's again, hesitates for a moment and then lifts his arm to wrap around Robby's shoulders. "This all right?"</p><p>"Yeah." Robby tips his head sideways. The next sip of water is cool in his mouth, down his throat. He wants to drain the whole thing but his dad said <em> small sips </em> so he reigns it back. "When I was dating him, Luke - it was fucked up. I know I said that."</p><p>He feels the little shiver against his side, but Robby's dad has bodily awareness and he locks it down fast. "It wasn't your fault," Robby's dad says, with such confidence that Robby figures he's been doing his own reading, or talking to the guidance counsellor. "Whatever he did."</p><p>Robby shrugs. "Sure," he says. "That's not the point, though." He rubs his thumb along the rim of his cup, drawing the liquid around in a full circle. "I don't think he  got <em> off </em> on hurting me. I don't think it was like that. If it was I'd probably have - maybe I'd have left. I probably wouldn't have, but at least I'd have known that I should have."</p><p>A sharp inhale, but no words. Good. Robby doesn't think he'll keep talking if his dad cuts him off. <em> Fuck. </em></p><p>"I liked that he liked me," Robby says. "And I liked that he wanted me enough to hurt me, because I was good at being hurt. It felt like it was the only thing I was good at. Letting him do whatever he wanted and not getting scared about it." He swallows. "Not like - physically. He never did that. But I think he spent a lot of time just pushing boundaries. Seeing how far he could push me, before I snapped. I was proud because I never did. I think he was proud of me, too. It made everything a lot easier." </p><p>He feels like it's being dragged out of him, like he's fucking bloody. He's already been bloodied, so this should be easy, in comparison; it's not. It's worse. This is Robby's <em> dad</em>. Robby went out and fucked someone who reminded him of his dad because his dad fucked off and <em> left him </em> and this is the <em> consequence </em> of that. It is what follows. </p><p>"That's what it felt like in there." He frowns into the cup, wishing he was somewhere else. God. Anywhere else. "I had him - I had all of them, you know, if I'd just have hit him that last time it would have been game over. I wanted him to spit out his blood and <em> thank me</em>. I wanted to crush him like everyone had crushed me. And I looked over at Kreese and he was looking at me like he <em> knew what I was</em>." </p><p>"Who," Robby's dad says, softly. His arm has not moved. His breath remains even, calm. "And he doesn't know shit about you."</p><p>Robby wants to duck away, hide from the kindness in that voice. But he's tired and wired at once; all of his nerve endings are fucked up, confused. He doesn't know what would even begin to feel good right now.</p><p>His voice rasps in his own ears. "I'm not a snake."</p><p>"No," Robby's dad agrees, almost tender. It scrapes against his skin. "You're not."</p><p>"I just want to be a tree," Robby says. "That's all I ever wanted. Roots." But he hit Hawk and kept hitting. He'd have kept going if he hadn't thought of Luke. Of what it had felt like to be on the other side of that, being ground into dust.</p><p>"You stopped." Robby's dad says, again, in the slow tones of a man soothing an animal that is wild and wounded. Snakes don't get like that. </p><p>"I gave up." Robby swallows. "I don't know what I was thinking. If I was thinking." His eyes turn to Mr LaRusso, still asleep across the room. "I didn't tell him that."</p><p>"Christ." Robby's dad's hand flexes against his shoulder. "Why?"</p><p>Robby shakes his head. It hurts. Maybe he has whiplash in his neck, because it is crunching every time he moves, a dull radiating ache that pulses down to his shoulderblade and up the back of his skull. "You get in the game, you lose. I needed them to see that." </p><p>The soft sound of Robby's dad's breath. There's only the slightest hint of that ragged edge. "Did he?" The only <em>he</em> that matters. The boy Robby's dad threw to the wolves.</p><p>Robby looks up at the ceiling. He can make out the barest shape of those low rafters. "Yeah. I think so." <em> I hope. </em></p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby was bleeding. He'd made it into the bathroom, so he could run the tap on a wad of paper towel and use it to clean up the worst of the mess on his face. He was grateful that the bathroom mirror had been spared the renovations that had made the rest of the dojo shiny and new: the mirror was still cracked and water-stained and so the person who looked back at him from inside it looked nothing like him, just an outline that might belong to a human, if you squinted.</p><p>The door swung open. Robby didn't lift his head; there was no point. He'd already lost all the fights - first Hawk, and then the flood after, the deluge. His head had stopped ringing but the memory of the fists and feet would take a little while to fade from the forefront of his mind. He knew this because it was not his first god damn rodeo, but god. He had not enjoyed it.</p><p>"You didn't have to do that." Hawk's voice was quiet, so soft Robby barely heard it through the dull throbbing ache of every bone in his body. "I could take it."</p><p>"I know," Robby said. He stepped away from the sink, raising his head so their eyes met. "You think the others could?" </p><p>Hawk's eyes darted away. He looked young like this, younger than he usually looked. He usually looked young. "They're tough. He wouldn't have let them in if they weren't."</p><p>"They don't know how to lose," Robby said. He coughed and spat a little blood onto the floor by Hawk's feet. "Those fuckers? Ever lost a second in their lives? No." It was easy to think of Luke, of his easy charm and the cruelty that he carried with him as a side-effect of it. </p><p>Hawk tilted his head to the side. "You could have taught them," he said.</p><p>"Yeah," Robby said. "Like you taught me?" </p><p>Hawk dragged his hand across his mouth, where the marks Robby had left still shone livid and ugly. "Sure," he said. "I kept thinking you were going to stop me." </p><p>Robby shrugged; had to suck in a deep breath at that, because <em> fuck </em> his ribs not happy right now. "Yeah. I thought you were going to stop." That was a lie: he hadn't even considered that Hawk would stop. He had known exactly how it was going to go and had done it anyway. </p><p>It wasn't that bad. He didn't like Hawk or trust him. He hadn't expected anything from Hawk so it hadn't been a betrayal. It had simply been what needed to be done. He had looked into those flat, black eyes and he had known that winning would accomplish nothing; it would simply place Hawk back into the dirt where he had nurtured all that rage.</p><p>Robby anchored his hands back against the bowl of the sink. His fingers - the right hand worse than the left, where they had been stepped on with great zeal - gripped tight, taking the brunt of his weight through the heels of his hands. "Did you have fun?" </p><p>"I didn't stop," Hawk said. "You could have stopped us. Any of us."</p><p>Robby winced at the memory. The wincing pulled the soreness on his face. "If I could, wouldn't I?"</p><p>"God," Hawk said. "Fuck you. You're not better than me."</p><p>Robby laughed. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous?"</p><p>Hawk took one step closer, then another. There was something strange in his face, which Robby had to squint to see because his left eye was swelling shut. A kind of rage, of course, tempered by a sharp knife's edge that might have been guilt. "I could have taken it," he gritted out. </p><p>Robby leaned forward. It was not sensible but nothing about this had been sensible. He let his breath puff out, so the sour copper smell would clash into Hawk's face, which was also bloodied, if not as badly as Robby's. "You didn't," he said. </p><p>"You think I haven't?" He was not pulling away, only leaning closer. Robby could see the faint circles under his eyes, the livid line of the scar above his lip. The bruises that were blossoming, the marks that Robby's hands had left on him. "You think I couldn't?"</p><p>Robby smirked. That fucking hurt but it was worth it to see the way Hawk jolted, as though he was the one who'd been beaten. "I don't," he said. </p><p>"Fuck you," Hawk hissed. "<em>Fuck you</em>."</p><p>Robby laughed, mean as the snake he wasn't. "No thanks." </p><p>And then Hawk's mouth was crashing into his with a loud clack of teeth. It was fast, too fast for Robby to react, especially with his reflexes as dulled by pain as they were; he simply stood there for a moment, as Hawk kissed him, the clumsy ugliness of a movement borne of adrenaline propelling him into Robby. His tongue pressed into Robby's mouth; Robby yelped. </p><p>That was enough to startle both of them. Hawk froze.</p><p>"Jesus," Robby said, pressing his hands flat against Hawk's shoulders to push him away. "What the fuck?"</p><p>Hawk had gone pale. He turned on his heel and fled.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>Robby doesn't tell his dad about that last part. He doesn't need to know about it; it's not really anyone's business except Hawk's. Robby kind of feels like it isn't even his own business, even though it was him on the receiving end. It wasn't about him. He's been kissed enough times to know when something's about him and when it isn't. </p><p>He'd like to see Miguel and Tory, though. It would be fucking nice.</p><p>He yawns and rubs his hand over his face. Ow. </p><p>"Can you sleep?" Robby's dad asks gently. </p><p>Robby yawns again, bigger than the first. Despite himself his eyelids are dropping. "Maybe."</p><p>"You want some more for the pain?" Robby's dad looks him up and down, amends it. "I'll get you some more for the pain. It's just drugstore, nothing - you know."</p><p>"Thanks." </p><p>He zones out until the pills are in his hand, and swallows them back dry. Feels himself eased back into the pillow, like a little kid, his dad's hands big and careful. "You're nice, sometimes," he says.</p><p>"I'm trying," Robby's dad murmurs. </p><p>"I know," Robby says. "I know." Everything goes dark with surprising ease; he turns his face into the pillow and lets himself go.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The morning is a blur. There's a soft conversation between Mr LaRusso and Robby's dad, which Robby is too sleepy to eavesdrop on, and then Robby's dad drives them home. Robby's feeling a lot better, good enough to drag himself through the shower and into clean clothes, which makes him feel twenty times more alive. He still looks kind of busted in the mirror, the eye swollen worse than it was yesterday, but at least his hair is clean and his mouth tastes like mint toothpaste, which is not something he could say about his mouth yesterday. </p><p>He's not hungry but he lets his dad shove a slice of toast at him, makes it through the chew and swallow because the worry in his dad's eyes is something Robby kind of - against all common sense - craves, cherishes, wants to hold tightly to. Yeah, yeah, he's fucked up. Join the club.</p><p>He has to go to school. Demetri's Spanish presentation is today and Robby is going to look like warmed-over death while he mispronounces every word that Miguel didn't teach him. He doesn't care about his own grade - he's not going to college that isn't community - but Demetri is a vibrating little hamster on the best of days and somehow he matters to Robby. </p><p>Robby's dad flatly refuses to let Robby drive himself in, drops him off just before third period with orders to call for a ride the second he feels like it. Robby says <em> sure dad, </em>dragging out the syllables, but he lets himself smile about it, lets his dad smile back at him and ruffle his hair carefully, like Robby is something delicate and precious.</p><p>Robby is on time for Spanish, ducking into the classroom and finding his seat beside Demetri and Sam. "Hey." </p><p>"Holy shit," Demetri says, looking up. "Robby, what the fuck happened to you?" </p><p>Sam's mouth turns. She knows: maybe her dad told her, but more likely she can put two and two together. She knew he had a plan. She doesn't speak so Robby doesn't, either.</p><p>Demetri looks back and forth between them, eyes wide, the confusion hardening to anger underpinned with fear. "Fuck," he says. "I'll fucking kill him." Robby's never heard him sound like this - flat, furious, like he could use all that shit Mr LaRusso's been cramming into that long, gangly body. "I'll make him remember his <em> fucking </em> name."</p><p>"Chill out, big D," Robby says, easy. He pulls out his backpack so he can unpack his third of the presentation material. "Technically I asked for it."</p><p>Sam does startle, at that. "Robby-" He does begrudge her this - the way she acts like she knows something about Robby's fucked-up history, the way she wants to gentle him down from this precipice that she's never comprehended at all - but he also loves her. He knows what she means through that overbearing look and it is that she loves him, and worries for him, and was never really taught that love is not just possession. </p><p>Well, Demetri is teaching her. He is the person to teach someone this. </p><p>"It's okay," Robby reassures her. "It's done now." </p><p>"Christ," she says, shaking that dark, beautiful head. "Fuck, Robby, we would have-" </p><p>"You don't know how to lose, Sam," Robby says, quietly. "That's what they needed to - I needed to show them that those are the same things, when it comes to Kreese." </p><p>Demetri's bright, furious eyes rake over him. "So you got the shit kicked out of you?"</p><p>Robby huffs a little laugh. "If it helps, the original plan was to kick the shit out of them."</p><p>"That does help," Demetri says. "That's still a bad plan but it's less stupid. Are your ribs - can you see out of that eye? You might get pulled out of class, you look like you went through a meat grinder."</p><p>"Kinda did," Robby says. "Eye's fine. I've had worse." Not a <em> lot </em> worse, but worse. None of them were purposefully trying to inflict <em> pain </em>, just incapacitate him. That's a serious difference and Robby is grateful to have come down on the side that he did.</p><p>"You don't think I've had the shit kicked out of me?" Demetri hisses. "You think I don't know?" </p><p>Robby winces. The sharp blade of Demetri's voice, which should not be a sharp blade ever, affects him more than he would like it to. "That's why I didn't bring you," he hisses back. "Sam's never lost, you couldn't win, not with them. The only person who made sense was me."</p><p>"You didn't -" Sam blinks. "Not the Cobras? Your dad's?" </p><p>"Like I said," Robby says, quietly, "this outcome wasn't really in the plan." </p><p>Demetri rocks back into his chair. "Robby," he says. "Nichols is gonna go apeshit."</p><p>Robby winces. "Yeah," he says. "Probably."</p><p>The bell rings, shrilly vibrating through the whole school but especially Robby's tender ears.</p><p>"Okay, well," Robby says, "let's get <em> this </em> show on the road, shall we?"</p><p>The presentation goes by quick. Robby just stands there and nods approvingly when Demetri and Sam talk. Does his little spiel on the cultivation of corn. His tongue stumbles across the Spanish but it's easier when he thinks of Miguel's warm smile as he sounds the words out for Robby. </p><p>Demetri carries them. Robby's not going to complain about it: he high fives Demetri after it's done and laughs at Demetri's red flush. Standing is exhausting, though, and when Sam wraps her arm around his waist he doesn't protest, just shifts a little on his feet to let her take some of his weight.  </p><p>Lunch can't come quickly enough. Robby drifts all the way through English and needs to be gently elbowed in the ribs to get himself out to the lunchroom. He hasn't been thinking about what will happen when he gets there, because, frankly, his head hurts and he's too tired for it. He thinks Sam is tensing up, which is nice of her, but it's not going to be a fight if he did his job right, and probably even if he did his job <em> wrong </em>, because even Kreese is not the kind of person who thinks it's a good idea to teach kids to beat up other kids who are already hurt out of the blue. (Just if they're already in a fight.)</p><p>They weave through the tables, Robby following Sam's lead and letting her hook her hand under his elbow; he blinks when they come to a stop in front of the Cobras. Robby's dad's Cobras, that is. Not that kid Kyler or whoever. Those guys Kreese got, who got Robby's blood on them instead of hello. </p><p>Aisha is the first to speak. "Holy shit," she says. "Robby?" </p><p>Robby ducks his head. "Hawk here?" </p><p>"No," Tory says. She slides to her feet in a single fluid movement; only the slight clench of the fingers on her left hand betrays any emotion. "Can I-" </p><p>"Yeah." He lifts his gaze, mantles his shoulders. "Sorry I didn't call you last night."</p><p>"<em>Fuck</em>." Her shaking fingertips reach up, delicately, brushing across the tender skin around his eye; down along his cheek. The split lip's closed up, mostly, but he doesn't move when she presses against it. "How bad does he look?"</p><p>Robby laughs. That hurts, too, but not as much as yesterday. "Not so hot," he says. "But probably better than I do."</p><p>"Fuck," she says, again. Her eyes search his face, running over all the abrasions. "He can't beat you."</p><p>"Makes twice in a row," Robby offers. "Shit, I need-" he reaches out and there's Sam, guiding him into an empty seat. Her silence at his back makes him feel like he does on the wheel, like he could do anything. "Thanks." </p><p>"Anytime," she says, still hovering on the balls of her feet. "Okay, Demetri and I are gonna - just be one table over, okay? Aisha, you wanna-" </p><p>"Sure," Aisha says, but she's staring at Robby as she gets to her feet, and Robby knows that's not going to be the end of that, but whatever. That's Miguel's problem.</p><p>And there is Miguel, behind Tory, the shape of him so familiar that Robby aches with wanting to put his fingers against it.</p><p>Instead Robby lifts a hand to wave. "Hi, Diaz."</p><p>"Hey, Keene." Miguel puts one hand on Tory's shoulder, carefully, gently; she lets him do it, even sways into him, just a little, which makes Robby feel - Tory doesn't like to do things like that, and he knows because he doesn't, either. "Bad night?" </p><p>"You could say that," Robby says. His fingers itch to tangle in the collar of Miguel's t-shirt, pull him in. Be told <em> you still matter </em>. Which is silly, because both Robby's dad and Mr LaRusso said as much, and he has always worried about them more than he has ever worried that Miguel or Tory would -</p><p>"Christ, Robby," Miguel says. He leans in and curls his hand around Robby's cheek and then they are kissing, right there in the middle of the lunchroom, which if Robby was in his right mind he would think was extremely gross but he must not be because he is reaching up and catching Miguel's hair and pulling him <em> down, </em>the hot rush of it on the edge of too much, riding right along the limits of what Robby can bear. </p><p>"I had to do it," Robby says.</p><p>Miguel flattens his mouth and looks at Robby, and then he says, "Okay. I believe you."</p><p>Tory looks at him, thoughtful, and then catches Robby's eyes and nods. "Like Diaz said, babe. Whatever you need."</p><p>Robby breathes out. It feels like being laid out, right there. It feels worse than with his dad, with Sam and Demetri and Mr LaRusso, because they demanded an explanation. Miguel and Tory just <em> trust </em> Robby. He shouldn't find it so unsettling but he does. But he trusts Tory now, he guesses. And from the very beginning he has trusted Miguel. </p><p>
  <em> Huh. </em>
</p><p>"You haven't heard from him?" Robby doesn't have to say <em> who </em>. There's only Hawk, really. The rest of them, the kids follow Hawk, and Kreese is beyond them, as much as Robby tried to pretend he wasn't, as much as Miguel wishes this was something he could change. </p><p>Tory shakes her head. She's pulled her chair over close to Robby's and now she curls her hand around the back of his neck and just rubs her thumb there. It's nice. </p><p>Robby leans into Tory's hand for a moment, breathes in the smell of Miguel's shampoo and deodorant, and then he takes a breath and waves Sam over. The others follow her like baby ducks. </p><p>He does need to explain what happened. It's easier to do it all at once. Repeating it each time for his dad and Mr LaRusso was exhausting enough, and he doesn't want to run out of steam. He does not include the last part, about Hawk in the bathroom, after. That's not really anyone's business except Hawk's and maybe Robby's. It's funny: the kid kicked the shit out of him but it's been a while since Robby felt so positively about him. </p><p>Hawk just looked like a kid, that's all. And if anyone can talk about doing something stupid for an older man's approval, well, it's not Robby. </p><p>There's no way to make it sound good. When he says it he thinks he sounds like he needs god damn therapy. Like getting beat up is always the answer, because if how much he hates himself, how little value he assigns to his own body. </p><p>But he could have won the fight, all of the fights. Like with Luke. He could have gone back there and worked it out. </p><p>But Hawk is a person like Robby, and maybe those other kids, too. And you just can not hurt someone who is defenseless like Robby was without it sticking somewhere in your mind. Or it shouldn't. </p><p>Tory knows that, probably. Miguel, too. Miguel especially, because he's the one who taught Robby that when you're vulnerable it's a gift. It was Miguel who took his hurt and cared for him without holding anything against him; nobody else had done that before. Not even Mr LaRusso, even if it hurts to know that. Mr LaRusso always wanted a student. </p><p>Miguel simply saw Robby and - <em> was.</em> </p><p>Maybe Robby is being romantic about that. It's just that it really felt like something entirely new. It still feels like that. </p><p>Robby tucks his face into Miguel's shoulder when he's done. He's so goddamn tired but it's not even <em> over</em>. If it was over Hawk would be here and Kreese would be gone and maybe Robby wouldn't be so upset that his dad is in love with Mr LaRusso, but none of those things are true. </p><p>The sound of AC/DC cuts the air, the tinny sound blasting out of phone sneakers, muffled by the weight of Miguel's jeans pocket. All of them wince and Miguel pulls his phone out, stares at the screen. Hits <em> speaker </em> and then <em> call. </em> </p><p>"Yo, Miguel." The voice is Hawk's, dripping with bluster. "Put your boy on."</p><p>Miguel looks at Robby, quick and protective. <em> You don't have to, </em> he mouths. </p><p>But he does, actually; and the worst of it's over; and Tory is here and Miguel is here and Sam and Demetri, too. When he went in alone he did that on purpose, but it's over, that's the end of that. Now it's Hawk who is alone. </p><p>"It's fine," he says. He reaches out for the phone. "Hey, kid."</p><p>He can practically see the expression on Hawk's face, the sour-lemon curl of his mouth. He wonders if the mouth is still bleeding or if it's fine now. Demetri says his mom - Eli's mom - is sweet and confused by this whole development. She's probably not thrilled right now. "Don't call me kid."</p><p>"But I like calling you that," Robby teases. He lets the confidence roll through his voice. He doesn't know if Hawk will push back, but either way it'll be instructive. It's funny how this whole thing just feels easy now, like he's lived his whole life waiting for a situation that required getting beat up and then being funny about it. It's like his one skill. (He has several extremely useful skillsets, this one is just the most specialized.) "What's up? How's your face?"</p><p>"Fuck you," Hawk says. "It's fine, how's your kidney?" </p><p>"Still hurts, not gonna lie," Robby says, letting a smirk spill across his face even though Hawk can't see it. Sam is staring at him, eyes wide, but Tory's grinning, teeth sharp like it's her fight, too. "Just when I pee. Been worse, though." He kicks his feet up against the table, which actually fucking hurts a lot, but he only winces, doesn't make a sound. "As fun as this is, are you calling about something?"</p><p>"Yeah," Hawk says. "You should come to the dojo. Your dad's here." He sighs. "Bring Diaz." </p><p>Robby blinks. "Kid?" There's something else there, a hiccup in the tone that Robby knows well. "You good?" </p><p>"Not really," Hawk says. A low, slightly shaky breath. "You didn't have to do that for me, yesterday. So I - you should come here. Okay? I'm gonna go now."</p><p>"Hey, talk to Diaz-" Robby stares down at the phone, dead. "Fuck." </p><p>Miguel's fingers brush his as he takes his phone back. "So?" </p><p>"He's still your friend," Robby says. "Right?" </p><p>Tory speaks before anyone else. "Yeah. He is, yeah." </p><p>"We should get going, then. I can't drive with-" He gestures down at his chest, to express the <em> whole thing </em> of it. "You know. And I'm not gonna be any good in a fight." </p><p>MIguel chews his lip. "Well," he says. "Good thing you know some snakes, then." </p><p>Sam clears her throat. "Not just snakes." </p><p>"Really?" That's Tory, eyebrows raised. "You know what this is, right?"</p><p>"Fuck you," Sam snaps. "Robby's my friend. Of course I'm going to do it. We'll need to take two cars; are you driving or am I gonna have to do it twice?"</p><p>Tory stares at her for a long moment and Robby remembers that Sam and Hawk did almost come to blows in the hallway, while Robby was in Palo Alto. It's not that he <em> forgets </em> Sam is good in a fight. It's that he chooses not to think about it. </p><p>Miguel says, "Yeah, Sam. That would be great. Thank you." </p><p>Robby lets Miguel hold his hand on the way out of school. He's not a goddamn invalid but if Miguel wants to, sure. Why not? He lets himself stay close to Miguel's shoulder, and from the way Miguel leans into him Robby's not the only one who likes it. Yeah, if Miguel showed up beat to hell, Robby would be pissed off; he's glad Tory's got Miguel to keep her cool.</p><p>Miguel murmurs, "Your dad?" </p><p>Robby shrugs. "He should have done it sooner." And that is the truth of it. He's surprised by how it doesn't hurt to say. </p><p>Miguel nods. "No kidding." He steadies Robby's hip with his hand as they step down into the parking lot. "You gonna ride with Sam?" </p><p>Robby doesn't want to. He leans into Miguel's hand, feeling soft. "Should I?" </p><p>"You're out of it, Keene," Miguel murmurs, shaking his head. He raises his voice. "Aisha, you wanna go with Sam?" </p><p>Aisha rocks forward onto the balls of her feet, looks at Robby and Miguel, and then over at Sam. "Sure."</p><p>Robby almost blushes at that. Being taken care of is not his strong suit. It makes him feel itchy and trapped. But this is good. It helps to balance out all the deep soreness, the lingering question - <em> did you fuck it up? </em>Well, it was always already fucked. </p><p>He lets Miguel’s hand on the small of his back guide him into the car. Lets himself smile, just for a moment, and close his eyes.</p><p> </p><p>-</p><p> </p><p>The mini-mall parking lot is empty, like usual. Robby scans it for familiar cars, and there's the Challenger, tucked up at the end of the row, neat as a pin between those two white lines. There’s no sign of his dad, though, just the sprawling concrete sidewalks. Tory whistles under her breath. </p><p>Miguel strokes his thumb along the edge of Robby's thigh, where his hand's been the whole drive. "Hey."</p><p>Robby offers him a weak-tea grin. "I'm good," he says. It's not like he's shaking at returning to the scene or anything, he's been beaten up a lot of places. His kidney does feel a little sore just thinking about it, but it's fine. He's fine. It helps that he chose it; there really is a first time for everything. </p><p>God, he can think of a whole bunch of other first times he'd rather be exploring right now. </p><p>Sam pulls up behind them. Her stop is more graceful, but she throws her door open and practically sprints to Robby's, pulling it open to say, "My dad's car is here, you see that, right?"</p><p>Robby cranes his neck, and there it is, right beyond the Challenger, just one space over. "Shit." </p><p>Sam shakes her head, dark hair bouncing. "I'm going in."</p><p>"Wait," Miguel says. "I'll come too."</p><p>Tory's eyes flick to Robby. "Yell if you need us," she says, but they're not listening, because Miguel has already pressed a kiss to Robby's cheek and climbed out his own door, following Sam across the pavement without so much as a second thought. </p><p>"Shit," Robby says. He opens his door to the fullest extent and uses the top of it to lever himself out. </p><p>"I agree," Tory says. She takes the key out of the ignition and comes around to his side. Her fingers twitch like she might take him by the elbow, like Miguel did, but she doesn't. </p><p>Aisha and Demetri are emerging from the other car, coming across the pavement towards them. They make a little knot, the four of them, standing in the parking lot. </p><p>"Well," Aisha offers. She runs out of steam after that. </p><p>"We could go in," Demetri suggests. "Or we could get Doritos."</p><p>Tory stares at him for a second and then she laughs, a startled sound like a burst bubble. "Jesus," she says. </p><p>Demetri mantles his shoulders like an angular bird. "I'm just saying, it's lunchtime. I'm hungry."</p><p>"She's agreeing with you," Robby says, reaching out to squeeze Tory's wrist. "She was just raised by wolves."</p><p>"Fuck you," Tory says, amicably. She drops onto the stoop and folds her arms over her knees. "Hey, did you hear that?" </p><p>Robby pays attention, and hears - raised voices, muffled by the shut doors of the dojo. Nothing discernable, but the outline of the sound is enough. Just voices. No fighting. </p><p>Not yet. </p><p>"Shit," Demetri says. </p><p>"Hey." The mohawk jerks with Hawk's face, with his eyes. "You came." He's slipped out from behind the back of the strip mall, looking fragile in a big hoodie and baggy jeans. He won't meet Robby's eyes, just looking at all their shoes.</p><p>"Of course we came, you asshole," Tory says, and then she's on her feet, stepping across the concrete to wrap him in her arms. "The fuck do you think you're doing?" she hisses, loud enough that Robby from three feet away can hear it. "If you didn't already have two of them I'd give you a black eye right now."</p><p>"Eli," Demetri says. His voice is low but not soft. There's steel in it. </p><p>Hawk lifts his head from Tory's shoulder, where his hands are resting against her back. "God. I don't have time for this."</p><p>"No, asshole, you do." Demetri snaps it, and it's so unlike Demetri that all three of them - Tory, Robby and Aisha - freeze and turn to stare at him. </p><p>Hawk doesn't, though. He laughs. It's faintly hysterical, a sound that's not laughter but the thing that happens when you're wound so tightly the slightest push can set you off. "All right," he says. He steps away from Tory, the slight hitch in his step showing that Robby really did make him hurt. "Let's go. You want a free shot? Sure. Be my guest." </p><p>Robby wonders if that's how he, Robby, looked before. Like there was nothing left in him, like someone had wrung him out. The bruises splash over Hawk's face like watercolour, now that he's had a little time for them to settle in, for the broken capillaries to turn livid. He doesn’t blink.</p><p>Demetri must be staring, too, because he's silent for a second. He's such a long person, barely ever fits in his own skin. "Christ," he says. "When have I ever wanted that from you, you fucking piece of shit?" </p><p>Hawk growls, low in his throat. </p><p>"Seriously!" Demetri yells. He takes a step forward, then another, hands balling at his sides. "Eli. Tell me. Use <em> words</em>. Explain to me what I fucking did to you." </p><p>Hawk runs at him, so fast nobody has any time to respond. That must hurt, Robby thinks, with the tiny part of his mind that's detached and observing; doesn't say anything just watches Hawk's spiky little head connect with Demetri's stomach.</p><p>Demetri staggers back, but he brings up his hands to catch Hawk, holding him there, almost like Tory did before. Those awkward hands fist themselves in the collar of Hawk's shirt and he drags Hawk's head up, and for a second Robby thinks-</p><p>"Just <em> do it</em>," Hawk says, dangling there from Demetri's grasp, like a kitten held by the scruff of its neck, like a child.</p><p>"Fuck you," Demetri says, and pulls him into a hug, so tight that Hawk makes a sound of sharp pain but doesn't pull away, doesn't do anything but tuck his face into the side of Demetri's neck. "Fuck you," Demetri says, again, arms wrapped around Hawk's back, standing there steady like Hawk's weight has not all fallen into him, like he's not holding the both of them up.</p><p>"Demetri," Hawk says.</p><p>"Shut up, dumbass," Demetri says. "Just listen to me for once, okay? Enough of this bullshit. <em> Enough. </em>"</p><p>Hawk's fingers are clutching at Demetri's shirt, now. All of them are staring - Robby can see Tory pretending not to, Aisha with her mouth just a little open - but neither Hawk nor Demetri seems to care. "Fuck you," he mutters.</p><p>"Stop it," Demetri says. He raises one hand and curls it around the back of Hawk's neck. "Hey."</p><p>Hawk shakes and Robby thinks it might all break apart then, that Hawk might draw back and throw a punch and Demetri would <em> have </em> to respond, because at the very least Mr LaRusso taught him to defend himself. Hawk's body is trembling like there's a fight to be had, but he doesn't move, he doesn't pull away. He says, "I'm so fucking sorry, I really am." </p><p>Demetri, startled, holds him closer. His eyes find Robby's, wide and confused. He mouths, <em> what? </em></p><p>Robby raises one shoulder and drops it. He feels Tory drape herself over his shoulder, thoughtful but ready to move. </p><p>"Okay," Demetri says. "Um, thank you?"</p><p>Hawk laughs. "Fuck," he says. He shakes his head, the spikes of the mohawk soft and dishevelled. "I was gonna fuck you up, you know. At the mall." </p><p>"I know," Demetri says. He raises the hand on Hawk's neck and puts it down again, and awkward almost-pet. "I really know."</p><p>Hawk hiccups. "I'm <em> sorry," </em> he says, again. "I was gonna hurt you," he continues. "Like, really hurt you. <em> You</em>."</p><p>Demetri says, "Does that mean you're not? Anymore?" </p><p>Hawk says, "God, fuck you," but he pulls off and wipes the back of his hand across his face. "Fuck. Of course I don't want to hurt you, you fucking nerd."</p><p>Tory hums, smugly. </p><p>Demetri blinks. "Are you telling me you miss me?" </p><p>"That would be stupid," Hawk says. "I'm the one who ditched you."</p><p>Demetri cocks his head. "It's okay if you do," he says. "I'm not saying I'm not mad. But I miss you too."</p><p>"Oh," Hawk says. He looks stunned, like he worked himself up to this point and now he doesn't have anything else to say. "Well."</p><p>"Well," Demetri parrots. There's a tiny smile on his face. "You look like shit, Hawk."</p><p>Hawk blinks, rocking back on his feet, and Demetri reaches out to catch his elbow but aborts the movement before it can make contact. Hawk looks down at the hand, doesn't move. "Yeah," he says. "My bad."</p><p>There's a huge sound from inside, then, a great clatter like the collapse of something heavy and fragile. Mirrors, maybe, those things go down hard. </p><p>Tory claps her hand on Robby's shoulder and she and Aisha dart across the concrete to the door. </p><p>Robby says, "We'd better -" and Demetri nods, though he hasn't looked away from Hawk and Hawk hasn't looked away from him. </p><p>Hawk says, "Wait." He reaches out to catch Demetri's chest with his palm. "Just hold on, okay? It could be bad in there."</p><p>Demetri puffs up like a startled bird. "Hey-" </p><p>Robby looks at Hawk and says, "Maybe stay back here. Neither of <em> us </em> is ready for a fight." </p><p>Hawk looks grateful, which is not something Robby's used to and doesn't really have the emotional space for right now, but then again the other option is wondering what the hell Mr LaRusso and Robby's dad are doing in there that's taken them so damn long. "What he said." </p><p>Demetri cocks his head, cuts his eyes between Robby and Hawk like there's something he's puzzling out, and Demetri's college-smart, sure, but he is <em> not </em> observant, so that's not great either.</p><p>Robby rubs his fingers across his lip, which is still swollen, and looks at the dojo. The door is shut and the windows are opaque so it's hard to see anything, let alone tell who's winning, if anyone is.</p><p>The door swings open. Robby's dad comes out, broad shouldered and blond, taking up the whole doorway with the sheer mass of him. </p><p>"Robby," Robby's dad says. "Hey. Come here." He lets the door swing shut behind him and strides across the concrete, hands balling and unballing at his sides. He isn't looking at anyone else; he's looking at Robby like Robby is the only person in the world. </p><p>"Dad?" Robby goes to him, though. Lets himself follow that weird magnetism that his dad rarely turns on, that Robby tried to tell himself didn't work on him. "Hey, what-"</p><p>He looks at his dad then, is able to really look: there's blood on his knuckles, they're cut up but it's a lot of blood so it's not all his own; fists just don't bleed that much. There's a rip in his shirt, right by the collar. "Dad?" </p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad says. He reaches forward and pulls him into his arms; he smells like aftershave and blood and sweat, hands too tight, desperate. Like if he lets go of Robby he won't ever get him back. Like he thought Robby was gone. </p><p>Robby lets himself be pulled. It hurts a little but he doesn't say anything, doesn't have to. He puts his face against his dad's shoulder and whispers, "Hey, I'm not going anywhere." </p><p>"Fuck," Robby's dad says. He presses a kiss to Robby's hair. "Fuck." </p><p>Outside the two of them people are filing out of the dojo - Tory and Miguel, Sam and Aisha, some of the students whose names Robby doesn't know. All of them look a little dazed, confused by the bright light of the midday sun. Robby doesn't have the energy to look too deep, but he's relieved to see that Miguel and Sam both look fine, shirts not even untucked. The door shuts with a decisive sound. </p><p>"What happened?" Hawk asks, his voice breaking the still air. He's vibrating but Demetri, at his shoulder, doesn't shy away. Robby wonders if Eli was like this before, if he got like this about robots or Doctor Who or whatever nerd shit he and Demetri used to do together. "Are you-"</p><p>Robby's dad sinks against Robby, not much but enough that Robby can feel it, the quiet exhaustion that has characterized him for most of Robby's life, underneath all the drinking. "It's okay," he says. "We won."</p><p>"You <em> won? </em>" Hawk says. "You think that's enough?"</p><p>"For now," says Robby's dad. "You know what that kind of win looks like, kid. I taught you how." <em> And Kreese taught you for real. He made it stick. </em></p><p>Miguel rests his hand on Robby's dad's shoulder, locking eyes with Robby. "Hey," he says. "Sensei. You good?" </p><p>Robby's dad takes a long, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry, kid," he says. "Should have done this from the beginning." </p><p>"Nah," Miguel says, easy, though Robby can see a little discomfort in his eyes. "You had to try the other way. I get it." </p><p>"What happened?" Hawk asks, again. </p><p>"We fought," Robby's dad says, peeling himself away from Robby - slowly, almost reluctantly. Robby sighs and lets him stay close, even wraps his arm around his dad's waist so he doesn't sway so much. "I won. Daniel helped." His voice is clipped and sterile.</p><p>Hawk blinks. "You won?" </p><p>"Yeah, kid," Robby's dad says. "I'm twenty years younger, don't look surprised." He rubs his hand over his face. "He gave me a fight, though." </p><p>"He kicked your ass the first time," Hawk says.</p><p>"He's twenty years older than I am," Robby's dad says. "I didn't want to put him in the hospital."</p><p>"Well," Robby says. He wouldn't mind seeing it. </p><p>Robby's dad huffs out a little breath. "Yeah, yeah." </p><p>Around them a little crowd is gathering. Robby's friends, and Cobra Kai. The front door clicking as it opens and shuts, as the kids pour out. "Mr LaRusso?" Robby asks. He picks out Sam, who catches his gaze and nods. </p><p>"He stayed to talk," Robby's dad says. "Fuck knows why." He shakes his head. "Someone has to be good cop, and I'm sick of it." </p><p>"Nobody has to be a cop, actually," Miguel says, but lightly. He reaches out like he doesn't know he's doing it, so Robby catches his palm swiftly, tangles their fingers together. Miguel lets him do it, even squeezes back.</p><p>Robby's dad raises his voice, mantles his shoulders. "All right," he says, in the voice of someone people listen to, "listen up. It's a school day. Go back to class. You're on record so we'll send you emails about class locations. If you're paid up with Sensei Kreese you'll transfer over to me. If that doesn't work for you we'll figure something else out."</p><p>The crowd mutters but begins to disperse. It's not a big crowd, anyway. </p><p>The door chimes and Robby jerks but it's just Mr LaRusso, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie. He looks drained, makes a beeline for Sam, who wraps her arms around him and tucks her head under his chin.</p><p>It's too intimate to keep looking so Robby turns away, lets himself fall back into the lee of his dad's shoulder. </p><p>Robby's dad looks at him, thoughtfully, gently. His nose is bleeding, Robby realizes, and looks a little out of joint. Well, that’s not the first time it's been broken; it probably won’t be the last. "Daniel," he says.</p><p>Mr LaRusso takes a deep breath and runs his palm over Sam's hair, then comes over to them, where they're standing by the entrance to the dojo but not in its direct path. "Hey, Johnny. Thank you." </p><p>"How'd it go in there?" </p><p>"How'd you think?" But Mr LaRusso shakes his head and offers Robby's dad a grim smile. "He was still spitting. Saying it wasn't over. I put his shoulder back in and he was pissed off the whole time." Delicately, with just the barest arched eyebrow. "Don't know anyone else who gets like that."</p><p>"Hey," Robby's dad protests. "I can put my own shoulder back, thank you very much."</p><p>Mr LaRusso rolls his eyes. He looks tightly-wound, guarded, but not <em> as </em>tight. "Because that's the key."</p><p>Robby's dad sighs. "Come here," he says, and reaches out to wrap Mr LaRusso in a hug. "See? I'm fine. You're fine. Everybody's fine."</p><p>Mr LaRusso stiffens. "Johnny," he says. He looks at Robby over Robby's dad's shoulder, hands dangling at his sides. There's blood on his fingertips, too. </p><p>Robby puts his hands in his pockets. "It's okay," he says. "I'm good."</p><p>"Okay," Mr LaRusso says, and he puts his head on Robby's dad's neck and shakes, just for a moment, while Robby's dad rubs little circles into the nape of his neck. </p><p>Robby doesn't leave because he's upset. He just needs a second, and he's got a crumpled-up cigarette in the back pocket of his jeans so he might as well just go and sit with it, while everything sorts itself out. He's not Cobra Kai, anyway, never has been, never will be: he doesn't really have shit to do here. He can hear the sound of his dad talking, and Mr LaRusso interjecting, and some of the kids snapping back, tentative at first and then more confident.</p><p>He fumbles for a light. </p><p>"Hey," Sam says, taking the curb next to him. She considers him with those big blue eyes. "So our dads, huh?" </p><p>He holds the cigarette out to her; she tips her head to the side, and then graciously takes it between finger and thumb. "Never not gonna be weird," he says.</p><p>"No kidding," she agrees. She coughs, spluttering, and hands the smoke back to him. "Yuck."</p><p>He laughs. "Grows on you," he says. But he probably shouldn't be doing it to his lungs right now, considering how mad his body is at him. "Feels weird," he says. "All of it." </p><p>"Yeah," she says. She combs her fingers through her hair. "I think I'm going to miss the snakes? I don't know. It's going to be weird not having them there all the time."</p><p>"Yeah," Robby says. "You wanna talk about - you know. The other thing?" </p><p>She looks down at her hands. "Not - really? Sorry. I know how that sounds. I don't have anything to say, I don't think. Not yet."</p><p>He bumps his shoulder against hers. "Okay," he says. "Fair enough." </p><p>"If you want - " But she's biting her lip, looking away. He has other people to talk about those feelings to. </p><p>"Nah," he says. "Give it time."</p><p>"Like, at least a year," Sam says, shaking her head. "Fuck."</p><p>They both look up, then, at the sound of Demetri's footsteps, the loud rhythm of his breathing. "Hi," he says. "Can I-"</p><p>"Sure," Robby says, moving over so Demetri can drop his long body into the space between them, angular like a heron or some other long-necked bird. "Hawk left?" </p><p>"I don't know where he went," Demetri says, tipping his head sideways onto Sam's shoulder. He has to kind of contort to do it, but that's Demetri; something about the awkwardness makes his good intentions feel more real, more earned. "He was just here and then he was gone. I don't know. I don't think he thinks it's over."</p><p>"It's hard to know if it'll ever be over," Sam says. "You know, my dad - he was real fucked up, too. He doesn't talk about it that much." </p><p>Robby thinks back to the dark dojo, curling up on the futon, breathing in hurting every muscle. About the softness of Mr LaRusso's voice, the tenderness with which he told Robby everything was going to be okay. "Yeah." </p><p>"Cycles of abuse," Demetri says. "That's what they're called. Someone probably hurt him, way back when."</p><p>Robby thinks about Luke, has to. Luke across the state, alone in that enormous bed, clinging to Robby like Robby would make the difference. Like he didn't know what else to do with Robby, other than treat him like shit and throw him away. "He can't stay here."</p><p>"Yeah," Demetri says. "Of course, I didn't mean-"</p><p>"I know," Robby says. "I was just thinking."</p><p>Sam blows out a breath. "I know it's up to them," she says. "They're the ones he hurt. It's just - fuck. I've never seen my dad look like that. Not about anyone." </p><p>"Not even my dad?" Robby shakes his head. "Sorry." </p><p>She leans across Demetri to punch his knee, light. "Gross."</p><p>It takes a second for Robby to realize the smell of smoke is not coming from him. He has to stub out his cigarette to make sure, get to his feet to crumple it under the sole of his shoe and raise his nose to the clear air, but - no, that's smoke. </p><p>"Robby?" Demetri asks.</p><p>He reaches down, rests his palm on Demetri's shoulder. Scans the parking lot, which is mostly empty now, just Tory and Miguel and Aisha and Mr LaRusso and Robby's dad talking, by the cars, farther away from the dojo entrance than even Robby and Sam and Demetri. "You smell that?"</p><p>"What?" Sam asks. She gets up too. "Robby-"</p><p>Robby breaks into a run. "Dad!" </p><p>Robby's dad's head jerks up at the sound of Robby's voice. "Robby?" </p><p>"Can't you smell it?" Robby asks. </p><p>Mr LaRusso says, "Johnny, fuck-"  and that's when the sirens start to go off, splitting the air with that enormous screech. They all flinch back, automatic, and watch the people in the other stores trickle out, the sprinklers going off in the convenience store and the pawn shop while both their owners swear and start to yell into cell phones. </p><p>There are no sprinklers in the dojo and the smell is only getting stronger, smoke starting to billow thick out the cracks in the windows. </p><p>"He didn't fix them," Robby's dad says, slowly, to Mr LaRusso, so quietly that Robby thinks maybe he forgot Robby is there and can hear, too. "The fire alarm went out and - I was going to replace it I just didn't have time -"</p><p>"No," Mr LaRusso says, reaching out, catching his hand on Robby's dad's forearm. Robby stares at the fingers, long and tan, curling around the sleeve of Robby's dad's shirt. "Johnny, he probably went out the back. He didn't want to see us." </p><p>Robby's dad freezes. "You really think so?"</p><p>Mr LaRusso takes a short, sharp breath. "Think it through," he says. "It's loud. He's not suicidal, Johnny. He's not just gonna sit there."</p><p>"How hurt was he?" Robby's dad asks. </p><p>"Shit, Johnny," Mr LaRusso says. But he looks nervous, too, unsure. "I don't know. Maybe -"</p><p>Robby's dad screws his eyes shut. "Sooner rather than later," he says, grimly, opening them. His eyes are the blue of a fire.</p><p>Miguel says, "Fuck, he can't-" </p><p>Robby’s dad says, “Fucking hell,” and then he says, “Robby, Miguel, I love you, you know that,” and then he pulls the bottom of his shirt up over his mouth, and runs in.</p>
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